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PRINCETON,    N.    J. 


BX  9178  .P275  1852 
Parker,  Joel,  1799-1873. 
Sermons  on  various  subjects 


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SERMONS. 


i:!^:-^!'.^^  By Jom r^-fji LVy FHi-A!.'.  r.^C^UERKSaryFS By^il'SLI^.S S.^i 


EVo  JCDE  IL    IPAIKKE 


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SERMONS 


ON 


VARIOUS     SUBJECTS. 


/    ^^ 


JOEL-'PARKEK,  D.D. 


WITH  A  FORTH  AIT   OF  THE   AUTHOR. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO,  AND  CO. 

1852. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year,  1852,  by 

LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO,  AND  CO. 
In  the  Clerk's  Ofl&ce  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
T.   K.   AND  p.   G.   COLLINS,  PRINTERS. 


S  /fl/n    /7'?n^u^^^t^'^-^ 


TO 
THE  ELDERS,  TRUSTEES,  AND  MEMBERS 

OP 

THE  CLINTON  STREET  CHURCH  AND  CONGREGATION 

IN 
PHILADELPHIA, 

THIS    VOLUME 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  BY  THEIR  LATE  PASTOR, 
AND  EVER-ABIDING  FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


The  Sermons  contained  in  this  volume  are 
given  to  the  press^  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of 
publishing  them,  as  for  the  purpose  of  furnish- 
ing a  few  discourses  as  mementos  of  friendship 
for  those  who  have  honored  me  with  an  attend- 
ance upon  my  ministry.  The  selection  has 
been  without  much  reference  to  the  finish 
of  their  composition,  but  more  to  gratify  the 
expressed  desires  of  various  persons  who  have 
asked  that  sermons  which  they  remembered, 
as  having  awakened  a  peculiar  interest  in 
their  minds,  might  be  included  in  the  selection. 

The  occasion  of  the  publication  will  be  suf- 
ficiently explained  by  the  following  corre- 
spondence. The  kind  expressions  contained 
in  the  note  requesting  such  a  publication,  and 
the  response  that  follows,  I  desire  to  see  per- 
manently connected  with  the  volume,  both 
because  they  furnish  the  best  apology  for 
allowing  such  a  number  of  discourses,  most  of 


VIU  PREFACE. 

which  were  written  without  any  expectation 
of  their  seeing  the  light,  to  be  published,  and 
the  sentiments  of  mutual  friendship  will,  I 
hope,  be  strengthened  and  prolonged  by  such 
a  preservation  of  the  expressions  themselves. 
The  first  note  Avas  signed  by  the  elders  of 
the  Clinton  Street  Church,  and  a  number  of 
the  congregation,  amounting  to  thirty-five  in 
all.  The  long  list  of  names  is  omitted  as  not 
necessary,  and  as,  perhaps,  not  agreeing  with 
the  taste  and  feelings  of  all  the  subscribers. 

Philadelphia,  March  19,  1852. 
The  Rev.  Joel  Parker,  D.  D.,  New  York. 

Rev.  and  Dear  Sir  :  Desiring  to  retain  some  lasting 
memorial  of  your  teachings  as  our  Pastor,  we,  whose  names 
are  undersigned,  take  the  liberty  to  express  the  desire  thafc 
some  of  those  valuable  discourses,  to  which  we  have  been 
permitted  to  listen,  may  be  given  to  the  public  in  a  printed 
form. 

Although  we  believe,  if  you  would  encourage  us  to  hope 
for  such  a  work,  a  subscription  might  be  readily  obtained 
among  your  friends  for  such  a  number  of  copies  as  would 
at  least  defray  the  expense  of  publication,  yet  we  do  not 
wish  you  to  assume  any  responsibility,  or  to  take  upon  your- 
self any  labor  or  trouble,  in  respect  to  the  work,  unless  a 
sufficient  subscription  shall  first  be  obtained. 
With  sentiments  of  warm  regard. 

We  remain  yours  truly, 

G.  W.  FOBES, 
C.  S.  WURTS,  &c. 


PREFACE.  IX 

New  York,  March  26,  1852. 

Respected  Friends  :  Your  kind  favor,  expressing  the 
desire  that  some  of  my  "  Discourses  may  be  given  to  the 
public  in  a  printed  form,^^  is  before  me.  If  anything  con- 
nected with  the  issue  of  discourses  possessing  no  special 
claim  to  the  public  attention  could  afford  me  pleasure  in 
appearing  as  an  author,  especially  in  a  work  so  little  sought 
by  general  readers  as  a  volume  of  Sermons,  it  is  the  assur- 
ance derived  from  your  communication  that  the  book  will 
be  read  with  the  partialities  of  the  friendship  which  has 
grown  up  between  us  in  the  sacred  and  happy  relationship 
of  Pastor  and  People. 

I  should  be  very  sorry  that  a  few  persons  should  be  bur- 
dened with  the  expense  of  the  proposed  work,  but  should 
the  subscription  list  be  so  extended  by  numbers  as  to  ren- 
der the  outlay  light  to  individuals,  it  will  afford  me  great 
pleasure  to  commence  immediately  the  preparation  of  the 
volume  for  the  press. 

With  sentiments  of  the  warmest  regard,  I  subscribe  my- 
self your  attached  friend  and  obedient  servant, 

JOEL  PARKER. 

Messrs.  G.  W.  Fobes,  Charles  S.  Wurts,  and  others. 


4 


^ 


CONTENTS. 


SERMON   I. 

Men  disappointed  at  the  judgment    . 

•SERMON  II. 
The  struggle  between  justice  and  mercy — a 

new  year's  DISCOURSE         .  . 

•SERMON  III. 
The  impetration  of  mercy;  or,  the  blind  beggar 

SERMON  IV. 
The  christian  falling  asleep    .... 

SERMON  V. 
Concealed  religion 

SERMON   VI. 
The  great  salvation 

SERMON  VII. 
The  great  salvation — the  escape 

SERMON   VIII. 
The  great  salvation — neglect 


PAGE 

13 


37 


56 


72 


92 


110 


128 


141 


Xii  CONTENTS. 

.  SERMON  IX. 

PAGE 

The  oood  Samaritan 159 

SERMON  X. 
Sinners  emboldened  by  forbearance  .        .180 

SERMON   XI. 
The  power  of  the  word  of  god  .        .        .195 

SERMON  XII. 
A  father's  influence 214 

SERMON   XIII. 
Importance  of  gentle  virtues    ....     239 

SERMON  XIV. 

Marriage  of  the  king's  son        .        .        .        .253 

SERMON  XY. 
The  speechless  guest 273 

SERMON   XYI. 
Requital  of  gifts  demanded       ....     290 

SERMON   XVII. 
Practical  atheism 310 

SERMON   XVIII. 
Freedom  from  soul-murder        ....     324 

SERMON   XIX. 
The  nature  of  faith 344 


^.       ^V^^' 


SERMON    I. 

MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT. 

Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate  :  for  many,  I  sat  unto 
YOU,  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able,  when  once 

THE  MASTER  OF  THE  HOUSE  IS  RISEN  UP,  AND  HATH  SHUT  TO  THE 
DOOR,  AND  YE  BEGIN  TO  STAND  WITHOUT,  AND  TO  KNOCK  AT  THE 
DOOR,  SAYING,  LoRD,  LORD,  OPEN  UNTO  US  ;  AND  HE  SHALL  ANSWER 
AND  SAY  UNTO  YOU,  I  KNOW  YOU  NOT  WHENCE  YE  ABE:  ThEN  SHALL 
YE  BEGIN  TO  SAY,  Wjl  HAVE  EATEN  AND  DRUNK  IN  THY  PRESENCE, 
AND  THOU  HAST  TAUGHT  IN  OUR  STREETS.  BUT  HE  SHALL  SAY,  1 
TELL  YOU,  I  KNOW  YOU  NOT  WHENCE  YE  ARE  ;  DEPART  FROM  ME,  ALL 
YE  WORKERS  OF  INIQUITY. Luke   XIII.  24 — 27. 

^'  Then  said  one  unto  him,  Lord,  are  there  few  that 
be  saved?"  This  is  a  question  of  thrilling  interest. 
The  human  race,  in  the  whole  of  its  history,  may 
amount  to  a  number  surpassing  all  the  calculations 
of  our  arithmetic.  We  read  in  one  place  of  the  re- 
deemed as  being  a  great  multitude  that  no  man  can 
number.  Yet,  our  Saviour  treats  the  question  as  ra- 
ther curious  than  practical.  He  avoids  a  direct  an- 
swer, and  calls  the  attention  of  the  multitude  to  the 
fact  that  many  will  fail  of  heaven  who  confidently  ex- 
pect to  attain  to  the  enjoyments  of  that  happy  state. 
Upon  this  fact  he  founds  an  earnest  exhortation. 
2 


14  SERxMON  I. 

"Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate."  The  Greek 
verb  agonidzesthe,  rendered  strive,  is  the  very  term 
from  which  our  word  agonize  is  derived.  It  refers,  like 
the  word  agonize,  when  applied  to  action,  to  the  most 
strenuous  kind  of  endeavor.  The  term  strait  has  not 
here  the  meaning  commonly  attached  to  it,  as  opposed 
to  crooked,  but  is  analogous  to  the  cognate  terra 
straitened,  as  opposed  to  broad,  and  easy  of  entrance. 
In  the  metaphorical  language  here  employed,  the  gate 
does  not  represent,  as  has  been  sometimes  supposed, 
the  door  of  entrance  upon  a  religious  life.  That  is 
to  say,  an  entrance  through  it  does  not  signify  conver- 
sion. It  is  a  gate  rather  at  the  last  end  of  a  religious 
life,  through  which  the  soul  is  admitted  into  heaven. 
The  striving  enjoined,  then,  is  a  continuous  life-long 
struggle  to  secure  an  entrance  into  heaven  at  last. 

The  motive  by  which  this  course  of  life  is  urged, 
is  the  fact  that  great  numbers  will  seek  to  go  in 
after  it  is  too  late  to  make  any  new  preparations, 
and  so  will  be  overwhelmed  with  the  most  bitter  dis- 
appointment. In  our  common  Bible  there  is  a  period 
after  the  word  able,  so  that  it  is  ordinarily  read: 
"Many  will  seek  to  enter  in,  but  shall  not  be  able." 
The  sense  requires,  however,  and  we  have  nothing 
else  to  guide  us,  since  the  punctuation  of  the  sacred 
Scriptures  is  not  inspired;  the  sense  requires  that 
the  passage  be  read  as  in  the  announcement  of  the 
text :  "  Many,  I  say  unto  you,  will  seek  to  enter  in, 
and  shall  not  be  able,  when  once  the  master  of  the 
house  is  risen  up,  and  hath  shut  to  the  door,  and  ye 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  15 

begin  to  stand  without,  and  to  knock  at  the  door,  say- 
ing, Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us;  and  he  shall  answer  and 
say  unto  you,  I  know  you  not  whence  ye  are.  Then 
shall  ye  begin  to  say.  We  have  eaten  and  drunk  in 
thy  presence,  and  thou  hast  taught  in  our  streets. 
But  he  shall  say,  I  know  you  not  whence  ye  are; 
depart  from  me,  all  ye  workers  of  iniquity."  The 
colloquy  that  is  here  represented  as  taking  place 
between  the  disappointed  multitudes  and  their  Lord 
and  Saviour,  is  a  very  spirited  dramatic  representa- 
tion of  the  sentiments  which  will  characterize  the 
parties  in  the  last  great  assize.  I  suppose  none  of 
my  hearers  are  in  danger  of  being  misled  by  it,  if 
we  frequently  advert  to  it,  as  if  such  a  conversation 
would  literally  occur  between  Christ  and  the  finally 
unconverted.  The  dialogue  is  instinct  with  life  not 
only,  but  it  is  also  a  most  forcible  and  truthful  repre- 
sentation of  the  expectations  and  the  disappointment 
of  thousands  who  have  not  the  most  distant  idea  of 
being  rejected  by  their  Saviour  in  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. 

From  our  text  thus  explained,  we  may  justly  derive 
the  following 

PROPOSITION. 

GREAT  NUMBERS  WILL  BE    BITTERLY  DISAPPOINTED  IN 
THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT. 

Of  this  fact  no  one  can  entertain  a  doubt  who  be- 
lieves that  salvation  depends,  in  any  sense,  upon  an 
earnest  endeavor  on  the  part  of  men  to  secure  it. 


16  SERMON  I. 

What  prospective  good  is  there,  that  men  are  not  con- 
tinually losing  through  a  want  of  diligent  and  earn- 
est endeavor.  The  fairest  prospects  for  ^Yorldly  com- 
petence, for  reputation,  for  health  and  long  life  are 
every  day  blighted  by  the  misconduct  and  criminal 
indifference  of  men  to  their  earthly  interests.  Is  it 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  a  different  law  prevails  in 
respect  to  those  interests  that  are  spiritual  and  eter- 
nal? May  not  misconduct  and  indolence,  with  equal 
propriety,  occasion  spiritual  bankruptcy,  and  blight 
every  prospect  of  the  immortal  soul  ?  And  does  not 
the  same  disease  in  man's  nature,  his  misconduct  and 
improvidence,  lead  him  to  the  most  pitiable  delusions 
in  regard  to  his  everlasting  well-being  ? 

Perhaps  there  was  no  danger  in  regard  to  which 
our  Saviour  uttered  more  earnest  warnings,  than  the 
danger  of  self-deception.  In  this  respect  he  often 
addressed  himself  with  the  utmost  boldness  to  the 
visible  church.  What  a  picture  did  he  draw  of  the 
moral  condition  of  the  Pharisees,  and  of  their  future 
prospects.  Yet  they  deemed  themselves  righteous, 
and  despised  others.  To  one  of  his  early  churches, 
that  of  Laodicea,  he  says:  "  Thou  smjest,  I  am  rich, 
and  increased  with  goods,  and  have  need  of  nothing ; 
and  knowest  not  that  thou  art  wretched  and  misera- 
ble, and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked."  Speaking  of 
the  whole  visible  church,  he  compares  them  to  ten 
virgins,  five  of  whom  were  wise,  and  five  were  foolish. 
Those  that  were  foolish  expected  admittance  to  the 
marriage,  and  their  call  of  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us. 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  17 

represents,  as  in  our  text,  the  disappointment  of  a 
portion  of  the  visible  church,  at  the  day  of  judgment. 
So,  -when  he  would  portray  the  dangers  of  covetous- 
ness,  he  paints  before  our  eyes  a  man  so  absorbed 
with  the  enlarging  of  his  store-houses,  that  he  exer- 
cises no  care  for  a  future  world  till  there  falls  upon 
his  ears,  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  the  awful  announce- 
ment, "  Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required 
of  thee ;  then  whose  shall  those  things  be  which  thou 
hast  provided?"  To  intimate  that  this  surprise  and 
disappointment  belonged  to  the  whole  class  repre- 
sented by  this  unhappy  man,  our  Saviour  adds:  "So 
is  every  one  that  layeth  up  treasure  for  himself,  and 
is  not  rich  towards  God." 

But,  if  there  were  any  room  for  doubt  in  regard  to 
the  fact  that  many  will  be  bitterly  disappointed  in 
the  day  of  judgment,  I  think  th^it  doubt  might  be 
dispelled  from  every  reflecting  mind,  by  propounding 
a  single  question  to  all  those  who  are  here  present. 
The  question  is  this,  and  I  beg  of  every  individual  to 
put  it  to  himself,  and  to  inspect  his  own  interior  con- 
victions for  an  answer.  Do  you  expect  that  Jesus 
Christ,  in  the  last  day,  will  say  to  you,  "  Depart  from 
me,"  and  that  you  shall  bid  a  final  farewell  to  hope 
and  heaven,  and  sink  down  amid  the  wailings  of  the 
lost  ?  You  expect  no  such  thing.  You  will  be  bitterly 
disappointed  if  you  fail  of  heaven. 

But,  in  what  respect  will  men  be  disappointed  in 
the  day  of  judgment?  Doubtless  they  will  be  disap- 
pointed in  being  rejected  by  their  Judge,  and  in  finding 

2* 


18  SERMON  r. 

themselves  ,snl)jcet  to  a  doom  of  such  severity.  But, 
as  tills  will  involve  numerous  mistakes  in  other  thinccs 
closely  connected  -with  their  final  destiny,  we  may  say 
that  their  disappointment  will  extend  to  all  these  par- 
ticulars. The  whole  ground  will  be  covered,  by  con- 
sidering how  they  will  be  disappointed  in  respect  to 

Tm:    PUNISHMENT, 

Its  subjects,  and 

TlIEIIl  OWN  CONNECTION   WITH   IT. 

The  greater  proportion  of  those  avIio  have  listened 
to  the  gospel  from  their  childhood,  have  reflected 
but  little  on  the  grounds  of  future  punishment.  They 
have  looked  upon  the  foretold  doom  of  the  wicked  as 
a  threat  uttered  for  the  purpose  of  restraint.  They 
imagine  that,  in  most  cases,  it  w  ill  be  Avithdrawn  after 
a  temporary  end-  shall  have  been  achieved  by  it. 
AVhen  the  punishment  is  actually  inflicted,  they  fancy 
it  will  be  the  result  of  a  deeply  excited  Divine  in- 
dignation. They  know  that  God  possesses  infinite 
power,  and  it  seems  not  very  strange  that  he  should 
be  provoked,  by  frequent  and  aggravated  offences,  to 
employ  it  all  against  a  certain  class  of  incorrigible 
ofl'enders.  They  will  be  vastly  disappointed  when 
they  shall  sec  that  God  has  no  passions  to  be  grati- 
fied ;  that  he  possesses  not  one  desire  to  render  any 
of  his  creatures  miserable  to  any  degree,  for  a  sin- 
gle moment.  They  will  see  that  nothing  but  pure 
unl)ounded  benevolence  ever  leads  him  to  punish, 
and  that  he  looks   upon  deference   to  his  authority. 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  19 

as  the  God  of  holiness,  as  the  only  possible  means  of 
securing  perfect  happiness  for  creatures.  Hence  tlie 
highest  good  of  the  subjects  of  his  empire  requires 
him  to  promulgate  a  law  demanding  the  best  possible 
action,  and  to  sustain  it  by  the  most  weighty  possible 
sanctions.  Hence  he  proposes  to  reward  obedience 
with  the  highest  gifts  in  his  power  and  to  punish  dis- 
obedience with  the  deepest  possible  infliction  of  evil. 
When  those  who  have  only  looked  at  the  subject  su- 
perficially before,  shall  see  that  God  is  employing 
the  whole  of  his  power  in  punishing  merely  to  de- 
monstrate the  strength  of  his  regard  for  holiness, 
and  so  to  enhance  the  esteem  for  holiness  throun;hout 
his  universal  monarchy,  they  will  be  greatly  disap- 
pointed. They  will  be  disappointed,  because  there 
will  be  no  reasonable  pretext  for  complaining  of  the 
severity  of  the  punishment.  If  the  only  motive  for 
punishing  be  to  augment  in  the  minds  of  the  moral 
universe  the  dread  of  sin,  there  can  be  no  reasonable 
ground  for  complaint  that  God  has  exerted  as  pow- 
erful an  influence  in  this  direction  as  possible.  More- 
over, those  who  have  deemed  the  Divine  judgments 
as  expressions  of  personal  resentment,  have  found  it 
impossible  to  avoid  the  impression  that  the  heart  of 
the  Judge  must  ultimately  sicken  at  the  view  of  in- 
flicted torments,  and  his  arm  relax  from  the  strange 
work  of  vengeance.  But  when  they  shall  see  that 
personal  resentment  has  nothing  to  do  wath  the  judg- 
ments of  God ;  when  they  shall  perceive  that  every 
pang  of  the   sufl'ering  sinner  is  inflicted  with  reluct- 


20  SERMON  I. 

ance,  so  far  as  the  feelings  of  God  towards  the  indi- 
vidual are  concerned ;  ■when  they  shall  know  that  all 
that  punishment  is  the  measure  of  God's  disappro- 
bation of  sin,  exhibited  for  the  sole  purpose  of  pro- 
moting the  general  happiness  and  safety  of  creatures 
by  a  high  estimate  of  the  worth  of  holiness,  what 
possible  hope  will  remain  that  the  punishment  will 
cease,  or  ever  be  relaxed?  Can  that  love  of  holiness 
in  God,  which  led  him  to  punish  at  all,  be  diminished? 
As  long  as  he  values  the  happiness  of  the  whole  uni- 
verse above  that  of  the  transgressor,  can  he  cease  to 
make  an  example  of  him?  If  the  punishment  is  the 
measure  of  God's  disapprobation,  it  will  be  manifest 
that  no  degree  of  it  and  no  endurance  can  be  exces- 
sive. How  then  will  men  be  disappointed  when  they 
shall  perceive  that  the  grounds  of  punishment  are  a 
benevolent  regard  for  the  well-being  of  the  universe, 
and  that  there  can  be  no  hope  of  relief  as  long  as 
God's  supreme  regard  for  holiness  shall  continue. 

But,  they  will  be  equally  disappointed  with  the 
actual  weight  of  the  infliction.  It  is  evident  that 
this  must  be  so  when  we  consider  the  thin^rs  which 
tend  to  prevent,  at  present,  a  full  appreciation  of 
the  severity  of  future  punishment.  Men  generally, 
even  those  that  are  accustomed  to  listen  to  the  gos- 
pel, bestow  very  few  of  their  thoughts  upon  a  future 
world.  In  respect  to  the  most  delightful  things  con- 
nected with  our  existence  in  a  future  state,  they  pos- 
sess very  inadequate  ideas  compared  with  what  might 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  21 

be  obtained  by  dwelling  upon  tlie  revealed  promises 
of  God. 

But  tlicre  is  greater  difficulty  in  appreciating  fu- 
ture punishment  than  in  appreciating  future  blessed- 
ness. We  are  naturally  averse  to  anticipating  evil, 
just  as  we  are  fond  of  anticipating  pleasure.  In  ad- 
dition, then,  to  the  mind's  being  drawn  away  from 
all  the  scenes  of  a  future  existence,  by  the  absorbing 
influence  of  the  objects  that  continually  address  our 
senses,  they  are  also  strongly  repelled  from  consider- 
ing a  theme  so  unwelcome  as  that  of  future  punish- 
ment. On  this  account,  when  men  are  in  danger  of 
great  temporal  sutTering,  we  can  seldom  induce  them 
to  appreciate  fully  the  impending  evil.  That  poor 
inebriate  wdio  is  now  approaching  the  confines  of 
mania  a  j^otu,  neither  believes  that  the  danger  is  so 
imminent  as  it  really  is,  or  that  the  sufi"erings  threat- 
ened are  of  such  a  terrific  character.  He  is  reluct- 
ant to  dwell  upon  the  magnitude  of  the  evil.  It 
comes  upon  him,  therefore,  as  a  fearful  surprise,  and 
his  subsequent  confession  is  that  he  had  no  adequate 
impressions  of  the  sufferings  that  would  be  occasioned 
by  that  terrible  malady.  This  same  reluctance  to 
dwell  upon  a  dreadful  future  evil  prevents  men  from 
forming  such  conceptions  of  the  punishment  of  the 
lost,  as  they  would  form,  if  the  theme  were  of  a 
more  agreeable  nature. 

There  is  another  difficulty  arising  from  the  want  of 
media  by  which  to  convey  a  full  impression  of  the 
sufferings  of  the  lost  to  our  minds.     Our  Saviour  and 


2'1  SERMON  I. 

bis  apostles  have  resorted  to  a  selection  of  images  of 
such  a  character  as  Avill  convey  the  idea  of  the  in- 
tensest  possible  sufferings.  You  know  the  doom  of 
the  lost  is  compared  to  being  cast  into  a  furnace  of 
flaming  fire;  into  a  lake  of  fire  and  burning  sulphur; 
and  the  expressions  of  suffering  are  marked  bj  wail- 
ing, by  gnawing  the  tongue  for  pain,  and  by  gnash- 
ing of  the  teeth.  If  these  were  to  be  understood  in 
a  barely  literal  sense,  as  some  of  our  old  divines 
have  maintained,  it  would  be  more  tolerable  and  more 
conceivable  while  in  our  present  state.  But,  the  va- 
riety of  the  images  employed  forbids  the  idea  that  a 
literal  description  is  intended,  while  the  strength  of 
these  representations  indicates  that  the  writers  em- 
ployed the  boldest  figures  afforded  by  human  lan- 
guage just  because  no  description  could  be  adequate 
to  impart  an  impression  equal  to  what  would  be  found 
to  be  the  reality.  Then,  again,  all  our  experience  of 
suffering  gives  no  absolute  impression  of  unmingled 
misery.  In  all  our  sufferings  in  this  world  there  are 
mitigations,  and  room  is  left  for  the  mind  to  conceive 
how  our  misery  might  be  aggravated  without  any 
enlargement  of  our  capacity.  But  when  God  shall 
inflict  the  final  judgment  the  cup  of  misery  will  over- 
flow. Not  the  least  mitigation  will  be  granted,  and 
men  will  be  bitterly  disappointed  with  the  severity  of 
the  infliction. 

iMjually  bitter  will  be  the  disappointment  of  men 
in  respect  to  the  sort  of  moral  esteem  in  which  the 
lost  will    be  held.     Vcrv  few,  if  any,  refrard  them- 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  23 

selves  as  utterly  abandoned  of  God.  The  greater 
part,  even  of  those  that  have  the  least  reason  for 
pretendmg  that  they  serve  God,  indulge  the  fond 
hope  that  some  portion  of  their  conduct,  and  some 
traits  of  their  character,  meet  the  Divine  approbation. 
How  deep  and  bitter  Tvill  be  their  disappointment 
when  they  shall  perceive  that  Christ  denies  the  least 
acquaintance  with  them  as  his  friends.  The  evil  of 
meeting  God's  disapprobation  must  seem  to  them  a 
greater  evil  than  they  had  ever  supposed.  When 
they  shall  be  aroused  to  the  contemplation  of  the 
majesty,  and  purity,  and  power  of  God,  and  of  the 
infinite  weia;ht  of  his  moral  character,  how  over- 
whelming  will  be  the  thought  that  he  looks  upon 
them,  and  v/ill  forever  look  upon  them  with  un- 
mingled  disapprobation?-  If  they  turn  their  atten- 
tion to  other  holy  beings,  to  angels  and  redeemed 
men,  they  will  all  be  found  to  concur  with  their 
Maker  in  his  perfect  moral  disapprobation.  If  they 
look  to  sinful  beings  for  sympathy,  alas !  they,  too, 
are  so  convinced  by  the  disclosures  of  the  judg- 
ment as  to  be  compelled  to  assent  to  the  justice  of 
the  doom  of  sinners.  They  have  but  one  resource 
left.  They  must  retire  within  the  sanctuary  of  their 
own  bosoms  and  call  up  all  their  inward  self-respect, 
and  sustain  themselves  by  the  reflection  that  they 
yet  possess  virtues  of  intrinsic  worth.  But  here  they 
are  met  by  the  law  of  God,  which  demanded  supreme 
affection  for  their  Maker,  and  a  full  purpose  to  obey 
and  serve  him.  They  perceive  at  once  that  their 
lives  were  spent  in  perfect  disobedience  to  this  rea- 


24  SERMON  I. 

sonaLle  requirement.  Tlicy  reflect  upon  the  merci- 
ful provisions  of  their  Saviour  only  to  see  that  they 
always  slighted  them.  They  think  of  their  familiarity 
with  Christian  institutions,  and  begin  to  say,  "  We 
have  eaten  and  drunk  in  thy  presence,  and  thou  hast 
taught  in  our  streets;"  but  the  thought  that  they 
always  slighted  his  calls,  and  neglected  to  sympa- 
thize ^vith  his  suflering  cause,  fills  them  with  shame. 
Self-respect  is  gone.  And  when  every  mouth  is 
stopped,  and  the  whole  world  has  become  guilty  be- 
fore God,  they  sink  down  under  the  unmingled  dis- 
approbation of  God,  and  holy  beings,  and  wicked 
men,  and  fallen  angels,  and  themselves.  How  bitter 
the  disappointment  to  those  who  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  self-flattery  and  the  approbation  of  friends, 
and  the  hope  of  the  Divine  favor ! 

Nor  will  there  be  less  of  disappointment  in  relation 
to  the  subjects  of  this  punishment.  There  is  scarcely 
anything  in  which  men  are  more  liable  to  form  an 
erroneous  judgment  than  in  their  estimate  of  charac- 
ter. Those  with  whom  we  have  to  do  possess  great 
facility  for  deceiving  us  because  we  cannot  see  the 
motives  by  which  they  are  governed.  Just  in  pro- 
portion as  they  are  wicked,  too,  they  are  strongly 
tempted  to  deceive.  But,  besides  these  tendencies  to 
a  false  estimate  of  character,  we  are  liable  to  be  mis- 
led by  false  standards  of  character  and  by  the  bias  of 
our  personal  friendships.  These  influences  alone 
must  lay  a  foundation  for  innumerable  instances  of 
surprise  and  disappointment  in  regard  to  the  persons 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  25 

that  shall  be  involved  in  the  miseries  of  the  last  judg- 
ment. 

But,  besides  all  this,  Christianity  has  introduced 
a  new  rule  on  which  the  destiny  of  men  is  decided, 
and  one,  too,  to  which  the  greater  part  of  men  give 
no  marked  attention.  The  foundation  of  a  new  cha- 
racter is  laid  in  the  soul  by  faith  in  the  Redeemer. 
Justification,  acceptance  with  God,  is  gratuitous  to 
those  who  possess  this  faith.  Hence,  men  will  be 
surprised  to  find  some,  whose  character  during  the 
greater  part  of  life  had  been  bad,  entering  heaven 
with  their  white  robe,  and  golden  harp,  and  crown  of 
immortal  glory.  Who  of  those  that  found  their  hopes 
of  heaven  upon  their  own  personal  righteousness  will 
not  be  disappointed  and  filled  with  wonder  to  see  the 
dying  malefactor,  and  others  like  him,  who  were 
saved  by  pleading,  in  faith,  for  Christ's  kind  regard 
in  the  last  hour?  On  the  contrary,  many  of  those 
who  were  amiable,  circumspect,  and  lovely,  will  prove 
at  last,  like  the  young  man  that  Jesus  saw  and  loved, 
to  have  had  a  decided  preference  for  the  world  over 
the  cross-bearing,  and  service,  and  hope  of  Christ. 
They  were  received  in  the  best  circles  on  earth,  and 
adorned  all  the  walks  of  private  life;  and  yet,  as  they 
preferred  the  world  and  its  favor  to  the  Saviour,  he 
will  say  to  them,  ^'  I  never  knew  you."  Many,  also, 
who  have  graced  high  stations,  and  been  esteemed  the 
benefactors  of  mankind,  illuminating  the  walks  of 
literature  by  the  efforts  of  their  genius,  or  blessing 
their  country  by.  their  statesmanship,  or  their  uncor- 
3 


26  SERMON  I. 

nipt  administration  of  justice  will  be  found  to  have 
sought  notliing  higher  than  the  praise  of  men.  To 
such,  as  they  have  had  their  reward,  Christ  will  say, 
^'  I  never  knew  you,  depart  from  me  all  ye  workers  of 
iniquity." 

Many  creditable  professors  of  religion,  too,  will, 
all  unexpectedly  both  to  themselves  and  others,  be 
weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  wanting  in  the  day 
of  trial.  They  were  regular  in  their  attendance  upon 
the  sanctuary.  They  sat  down  at  the  communion- 
table with  the  people  of  God.  Their  voices  were 
heard  in  the  songs  of  Zion  and  in  solemn  prayer. 
They  bestowed  their  goods  to  feed  the  poor.  They 
had  the  confidence  of  their  pastor  and  their  brethren. 
None  were  so  uncharitable  as  to  deny  them  the 
Christian  name.  They  even  felt  a  strong  assurance 
that  they  were  sincere  disciples  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
But  their  friends,  their  pastor,  their  brethren  were 
all  mistaken.  They  were  only  beautiful  without, 
like  the  tasteful  whited  sepulchre.  None  but  God 
saw  the  radical  defect  of  their  character.  The  bias 
of  selfishness  led  them  to  misjudge  in  .regard  to  them- 
selves. A  deceived  heart  had  influenced  them;  and 
like  many  of  old,  they  held  fast  deceits.  But,  now, 
what  disappointment  is  produced  when  the  veil  is  rent 
away,  and  the  heart-searching  Judge  exposes  their 
character  and  exclaims,  ''  I  know  you  not !"  Nor  will 
disappointment  in  the  church  be  limited  to  its  private 
members.  Those  officers  that  have  visited  the  sick 
and  conducted  often  the  devotions  of  the  people  of 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  27 

God,  and  distributed  the  emblems  of  the  Saviour's 
body  and  blood  will  be   found  to  have  among  their 
company  some  whose  characters  have  been  mistaken 
by  all  except  him  who  searches  the  heart.     'No  eleva- 
tion of  office  or   sacredness  of  function  can  secure 
men  against  the  liability  to  deceive  both  themselves 
and  others.     The  minister  of  Christ  may  fail  of  hea- 
ven.    Not  merely  the  manifestly  proud  ecclesiastic 
that  renders  God's  w^ork  a  sinecure,  and    makes   a 
gain  of  his  poor  flock.     But  the  earnest,  orthodox, 
fervid,   and   effective   preacher   may   disappoint  not 
only  the  church,  but  the  world  and  himself  by  being 
found  at  last  among  the  lost.     Paul,  with  all  his  fidel- 
ity, was  afraid  lest  he  should  prove  a  castaway.     It 
was  not  with  him  a  mere  profession  of  modesty  and 
humility.     He  was  afraid  because  there  was  actual 
danger.     The  minister  of  Christ  cannot  be  saved  by 
virtue  of  his  office.     He  must  have  a  higher  distinc- 
tion— that  of  a  Christian.     He  may  preach  the  veri- 
table gospel.     He  may  be  plain,  and  pungent,  and 
fearless  in  the  proclamation  of  the  truth,  and  yet  it 
is  clearly  supposable  that   he  may  be   destitute  of 
saving  trust  in  the  Redeemer.     For  aught  that  can 
assure  us  to  the  contrary,  in  his  office  or  in  the  strain 
of  his  present  discourse,  he  that  now  addresses  you 
may  at  last  be  a  castaway,  and  illustrate  the  truth 
of  his  doctrine  by  going  away  in  sorrow  and  despair 
from  his  Saviour,  to  take  up  his  abode  where  there  is 
wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

But,  if  many  will  be  disappointed,  as  spectators  of 


28  SERMON  I. 

the  weight  of  the  infliction  that  shall  fall  upon  the 
lost,  and  as  observers  of  the  suhjccts  of  such  a  doom, 
much  more  bitter  will  be  their  disappointment  from 
iiiidinor  themselves  involved  in  it.  In  this,  as  much 
as  in  any  one  thing,  is  found  the  deceitfulness  of  sin. 
The  perpetrator  flatters  himself  that  he  shall  evade 
the  legitimate  consequences.  The  same  causes  oper- 
ate as  in  the  case  of  offenders  against  human  laws. 
Criminals  know  that  others  pursuing  their  career 
meet  with  the  penalty  of  the  law,  and  that,  sooner  or 
later,  those  who  indulge  in  a  course  of  crime  will  be 
brought  to  punishment,  yet  they  flatter  themselves 
that  thcij  shall  escape.  But  a  large  class  of  trans- 
gressors of  God's  law  flatter  themselves  with  a  double 
hope  of  salvation.  They  intend,  in  the  first  place, 
not  to  deserve  to  be  cast  ofi"  from  Christ.  They  know, 
perhaps,  that  the  Saviour  has  taught  that  salvation  is 
to  be  attained  by  gratuitous  pardon  alone,  and  pardon 
can  be  secured  only  by  such  a  trust  in  Christ  as  will 
lead  the  soul  to  consecrate  all  its  energies  to  the  actual 
service  of  its  Redeemer.  They  know  that  Christianity 
makes  a  neglect  of  the  Saviour  perfectly  fatal  to  their 
eternal  interests;  that  if  they  confess  Christ,  and  so 
attach  themselves  to  him  as  to  be  willing  to  sufi'er 
shame  for  his  name,  then  he  will  confess  them  before 
his  Father  and  the  holy  angels,  and,  if  they  are 
ashamed  of  him,  he  will  be  ashamed  of  them.  Still, 
they  do  not  meditate  deeply  upon  this  plan  of  gratui- 
tous salvation  ;  they  hope  that  their  sins  will  not  prove 
such  grave  offences  as  to  require  their  rejection  by 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  29 

the  Judge.  When  forced  by  then'  convictions  of  per- 
sonal ill-desert  to  abandon  all  hope  on  this  ground, 
they  cherish  a  confident  expectation  that  they  shall 
yet  submit  to  Christ,  and  accept  his  overtures  of 
mercy.  Because  the  gospel-offers  continue  to  be 
made,  and  many  have  been  known  to  accept  of  them 
in  their  last  days,  they  feel  certain  that  they  shall 
become  Christians  before  they  die.  If  a  painful  alarm 
come  over  them,  lest  they  should  fail  to  comply  with 
the  invitations  of  Christ,  they  resolve  that  they  will 
comply.  They  are  fully  determined  not  to  be  lost. 
But  at  length  death  comes  as  a  thief  in  the  night. 
They  are  borne,  with  surprise  and  astonishment, 
into  the  presence  of  Christ,  the  omniscient  Judge  of 
quick  and  dead.  They  are  disappointed,  bitterly  dis- 
appointed to  find  themselves  disowned,  condemned, 
rejected,  and  their  portion  assigned  them  where  there 
is  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  They  intended  not 
to  be  lost.  They  scarcely  considered  what  it  was, 
just  because  they  purposed  to  avoid  it.  They  deemed 
it  needless  to  harrow  up  their  feelings  with  terrific 
images  of  the  world  of  woe,  since  they  should  certainly 
escape  it.  But  their  fear  has  come  suddenly,  and 
their  destruction  as  a  whirlwind. 

It  seems  to  me  that  there  can  be  scarcely  anything 
more  bitter  in  the  doom  of  the  lost  than  the  disap- 
pointment that  shall  attend  it.  I  know  of  no  incident 
taken  from  life  that  illustrates  more  fully  this  point 
than  one  connected  with  our  revolutionary  struggle,  in 
a  scene  described  by  a  popular  American  writer.     It 

3* 


30  SERMON  I. 

is  not  necessary  to  quote  the  language  of  the  author. 
It  was  tlic  account  of  an  execution  of  one  of  the  men 
called  Tories,  lie  had  been  arrested  by  a  military 
company.  It  was  proved  clearly  that  he  had  been 
lending  his  influence  to  aid  the  enemy.  The  captain 
and  the  greater  part  of  the  company  had  been  ac- 
quainted Avith  him.  Indeed,  he  was  one  of  their  old 
neighbors  and  personal  friends.  When  he  was  con- 
demned by  a  summary  process,  the  leader  of  the  band 
ordered  his  execution.  The  prisoner  could  not  believe 
that  his  old  neighbor  and  acquaintance  would  really 
allow  him  to  be  executed.  He  reminded  him  of  their 
former  acquaintance,  and  of  the  fact  that  no  personal 
ill-will  had  ever  existed  between  them.  The  captain 
and  his  friends  alleged  that  it  was  a  great  aggravation 
of  his  offences,  that  he  had  jeoparded  the  lives  and 
interests  of  those  against  whom  he  had  no  personal 
resentments  to  gratify.  Preparations  were  made  for 
the  execution.  Still,  the  prisoner  would  not  admit, 
for  a  moment,  that  anything  more  could  be  intended 
than  seriously  to  operate  upon  his  fears.  He  remon- 
strated again,  and  made  fair  promises.  They  had  no 
cifect.  The  preparations  still  went  forward.  At 
length,  he  was  lifted  up  and  suspended  by  the  neck. 
Still  he  would  not  believe.  Seizing  the  rope,  he  raised 
himself  and  remained  suspended  by  the  strength  of 
his  arms.  Again  he  pleaded  with  the  officer,  remind- 
ing him  of  their  former  acquaintance.  The  captain 
assured  him  that  he  was  not  brought  to  such  a  doom 
by  anything  connected  with  that  acquaintance,  but 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  81 

only  by  betraying  his  country  and  his  friends,  and 
ordered  the  company  to  move  and  leave  him  to  his 
fate.  He  saw  them  move  away,  and  then,  for  the 
first  time,  flashed  upon  his  mind  his  real  situation. 
With  a  look  of  unutterable  and  bitter  disappointment, 
he  gave  one  shriek  of  despair,  and  relaxed  the  grasp 
of  his  hands  and  sunk  down  into  the  horrid  struggle 
of  strangulation.  Thus,  will  men  be  disappointed  in 
their  ultimate  doom,  who  never  plead  earnestly  with 
their  Saviour  till  they  cry,  "Lord,  Lord,  open  unto 
us,"  and  hear  the  voice  of  their  Judge,  saying,  "I  know 
you  not;  depart  from  me,  all  ye  workers  of  iniquity." 
To  apply  this  subject,  allow  me  to  say  that  there 
is  one  class  of  persons,  numerous  in  the  whole  Christ- 
ian community,  and  I  am  afraid  a  good  many  of  my 
present  hearers  belong  to  it,  who  do  not  feel  any 
serious  apprehension  in  regard  to  a  future  judgment. 
They  neglect  the  whole  subject,  and  have  settled  a 
single  principle  by  which  they  are  to  be  governed  in 
relation  to  their  future  and  eternal  interests.  They 
think  they  are  too  good  to  be  lost.  My  dear  friends, 
your  neglect  to  ponder  the  subject  exerts  no  possible 
influence  to  change  the  principles  of  God's  adminis- 
tration. If  no  man  can  be  saved  on  a  plea  of  per- 
sonal goodness,  but  only  by  the  mercy  of  God  through 
faith  in  Christ's  offering  of  himself  as  a  sacrifice  for 
our  sins,  then  your  reliance  upon  your  general  cha- 
racter, and  your  neglect  of  the  special  provisions  of 
Christianity,  can  only  serve  to  fill  you  with  bitter  dis- 
appointment at  last.    If  you  think  the  interests  of  the 


82  SERMON  T. 

soul  will  be  secured  without  attention  and  eftort,  you  are 
not  more  likely  to  be  right  than  those  are  who  should 
expect  to  see  the  fruits  of  industry  in  their  hands, 
and  themselves  prepared  to  enjoy  them,  without  toil 
or  care,  or  self-discipline.  If  you  think  it  degrading 
to  beg  for  mercy  in  the  name  of  Christ  when  it  can 
be  obtained,  you  will  yet  see  the  time  when  you  shall 
cry  to  him,  with  a  strong  and  bitter  cry,  and  meet 
with  no  other  response  than  "I  know  you  not;  depart 
from  me,  all  ye  workers  of  iniquity." 

But,  here  is  a  band  of  youth  of  both  sexes,  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  pious  parents.  They  fully  intend 
to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  They  will  scarcely 
allow  the  thought  to  cross  their  minds  that  they  may 
see  their  parents  in  white  robes,  with  palms  and  harps 
and  crowns  following  in  their  Saviour's  train,  and  they 
themselves  cast  out.  Yet  disappointment,  remember, 
characterizes  the  condition  of  the  lost.  If  you  should 
witness  such  a  scene,  and  then  cry  to  your  Saviour, 
"Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us,"  you  might  plead  all  your 
interesting  relations  to  the  church,  and  your  Saviour, 
and  the  means  of  grace,  and  plead  in  vain.  You  might 
say,  "Lord,  open  to  us.  We  have  eaten  and  drunk  in 
thy  presence,  and  thou  hast  taught  in  our  streets," 
and  the  answer  would  be,  "I  know  you  not."  You 
might  say,  "We  have  sat  in  thy  sanctuary,  our  voices 
have  uttered  the  songs  of  Zion."  "  I  know  you  not," 
is  still  the  answer.  "But,  Lord,  we  have  been  bap- 
tized into  thy  holy  name.  We  have  knelt  at  the 
family  altar,  when  the  sacrifice  of  prayer  and  praise 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  33 

was  offered.  We  were  the  objects  of  parental  solici- 
tude and  prayer ;  our  parents  blessed  us  with  their 
dying  lips.  They  have  entered  heaven.  We  always 
intended  to  join  them  in  that  happy  world.  There 
they  are ;  we  see  their  blessed  countenances,  and 
hear  the  sweet  voices  that  taught  our  infant  lips  to 
pray.  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us."  The  declara- 
tion, ''  I  know  you  not,"  is  again  reiterated,  and  you 
sink  down  in  a  disappointment,  the  bitterness  of 
which  is  aggravated  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of 
your  former  anticipations. 

But  here  is  another  group,  who  have  not  only 
been  taught  by  pious  parents  and  faithful  pastors, 
but  who  have  been  often  brought  by  the  Spirit's  in- 
fluence to  the  threshold  of  the  church  invisible.  You 
intend,  by  all  means,  not  to  be  cast  off  at  last.  You 
have  treasured  up  many  a  faithful  warning.  You 
have  carried  the  message  of  God  to  your  chamber, 
and  sometimes  knelt  down  and  prayed  for  strength  to 
take  up  your  cross  and  follow  your  Saviour.  But 
you  were  not  quite  ready.  You  desired  your  hus- 
band, your  wife,  or  some  dear  friend,  to  accompany 
you.  You  deferred  it  till  the  next  communion-season 
should  recur.  The  time  came  ;  you  were  not  ready. 
When  you  saw  the  emblems  of  your  Saviour's  body 
and  blood  pass,  you  seemed  to  see  your  wounded  and 
slighted  Redeemer  cast  towards  you  an  aggrieved  and 
reproving  look.  Your  soul  was  filled  with  tender- 
ness; your  tears  flowed,  and  you  resolved  solemnly 
before  God,  that  the  next  communion-season  should 


34  •      SERMON  I. 

find  you  confessing  your  Saviour  before  men,  and  say- 
ing, "  If  I  perish,  I  perish — '  Here,  Lord,  I  give 
myself  away,  'tis  all  that  I  can  do.'  "  The  next  com- 
munion-season arrived,  and  you  had  found — in  your 
ingenuity — another  plausible  pretext  for  delay.  You 
thought,  however,  that  you  could  not  fail.  Such 
purposes  and  emotions  must  ripen  into  a  genuine  con- 
version. But,  alas!  while  you  are  lingering,  death 
calls.  You  come  to  the  door  of  heaven  with  the  cry 
*'Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us."  You  hear  no  answer. 
Can  we  be  mistaken?  You  knock  loudly  at  the  door, 
and  call  with  a  louder  voice,  "  Lord,  Lord,  open  to 
us."  Then  the  response  falls  on  your  ears,  ''I  know 
you  not.''  You  will  not  receive  it.  You  look  your 
companions  in  the  face,  and  ask,  can  it  be  possible 
that,  while  we  were  waiting  for  one  another,  as  seek- 
ing for  a  more  convenient  time,  and  more  favorable 
circumstances,  it  was  not  much  the  same  thing  as  if 
we  had  taken  up  our  cross,  and  followed  Christ.  We 
will  call  yet  again:  "Lord,  did  we  not  receive  thy 
solemn  admonitions,  and  go  home  from  the  sanctuary 
and  pray  for  strength  to  do  our  duty  ?  Did  not  the 
emblems  of  thy  body  and  blood  pass  close  by  us? 
Did  we  not  then  say,  Oh,  that  we  might  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  that  our  last  end  might  be  like 
his?  Did  we  not  solemnly  promise  that,  ere  another 
such  season  should  arrive,  we  would  take  up  our 
cross,  begin  thy  service  frankly  and  openly,  and  at 
the  very  next  opportunity  confess  the^  in  thine  ordi- 


MEN  DISAPPOINTED  AT  THE  JUDGMENT.  35 

nances,  and  solemnly  say  in  the  assembly  of  thy 
people : — 

*  Here,  in  thy  courts,  I  leave  my  tow, 
And  thy  rich  grace  record  ; 
Witness  !  ye  saints  that  hear  me  now, 
If  I  forsake  the  Lord  ?' 

"  Must  we  now  be  cast  oif,  just  because  we  did  not 
give  ourselves  to  thee,  when  perhaps  we  should  have 
done  so,  if  our  life  had  been  spared  only  a  few  days 
longer?"  The  same  answer  is  returned,  "I  know  you 
not." 

But  here  is  a  company  of  professed  disciples,  that 
have  just  learned  that  they  resemble  the  foolish  vir- 
gins who  took  their  lamps,  but  took  no  oil  with  them. 
They  had  exhibited  a  glare  of  external  piety,  but 
they  never  understood  what  was  meant  by  peace  and 
joy  in  believing.  They  were  unacquainted  with  that 
inward  faith  which  enables  the  soul  to  contemplate 
Christ  and  heavenly  things  as  such  interesting  and 
sure  realities  that  they  derive  from  them  their  chief 
happiness.  They  cannot  believe  that  they  shall  be 
disappointed.  When  they  are  denied  a  ready  ad- 
mittance, they  exclaim,  "Lord!  we  have  eaten  and 
drunk  in  thy  presence ;  we  have  entered  into  solemn 
covenant  with  thy  people ;  we  have  befriended  thy 
ministers ;  we  sometimes  fancied  that  we  did  even 
more  than  our  part,  in  ameliorating  the  condition  of 
our  sinful  race.  Must  all  this  pass  for  nothing? 
Many  are  saved  that  have  not  done  as  much  good  as 


36  SERMON  I. 

"we  have.  'Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us!'  "  Still,  the 
answer  is,  ''  I  know  you  not;  depart  from  me,  all  ye 
workers  of  iniquity!" 

My  hcloved  friends,  you  and  I,  and  every  one  of 
us,  shall  surely  see  that  day  of  trial,  wiien  all  the 
unconverted  shall  experience  the  most  bitter  disap- 
pointment. Let  me  counsel  you,  then,  in  the  name 
of  my  Master,  to  do  the  only  thing  which  can  pro- 
tect you  from  a  just  application  of  that  sentence 
which  shall  fall  like  a  clap  of  thunder  upon  the  ears 
of  all  the  unconverted:  "Depart  from  me,  all  ye 
workers  of  iniquity."  Apply,  at  once,  to  your  Sa- 
viour for  mercy.  Say  to  him,  "  Save,  Lord,  or  I 
perish."  Listen  to  his  call,  "  Come  unto  me  all  ye 
that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest;"  and  say,  "Yes,  blessed  Saviour,  I  come  to  thee, 
now.  I  ask  thee  in  the  language  of  Saul,  the  sub- 
dued persecutor,  '  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to 
do?'  Any  cross  which  thou  wilt  lay  upon  me  I 
bear  for  thy  sake.  From  this  moment  I  throw  away 
all  delays.  Give  me  thy  Spirit  of  grace  to  guide 
me.  Enstamp  thine  image  on  my  soul,  and,  through 
thy  grace  assisting,  I  am  and  will  be  thine  forever." 


SERMON    II. 

THE  STRUGaLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY — A  NEW 
year's  DISCOURSE. 

He  spake  also  this  parable  :  a  certain  man  had  a  fig-tree 
planted  in  his  vineyard  ;  and  he  came  and  sought  fruit  there- 
ON AND    FOUND    NONE.       ThEN    SAID    HE    UNTO    THE    DRESSER    OF    HIS 

VINEYARD,  Behold,  these  three  years  I  come  seeking  fruit  on 

THIS  fig-tree  and  FIND  NONE  :  CUT  IT  DOWN  :  WHY  CUMBERETH  IT 
THE  GROUND  ?  AnD  HE  ANSWERING,  SAID  UNTO  HIM,  LORD,  LET  IT 
ALONE  THIS  YEAR  ALSO,  TILL  I  SHALL  DIG  ABOUT  IT  AND  DUNG  IT  : 
AND  IF  IT  BEAR  FRUIT,  WELL:  AND  IF  NOT,  THEN,  AFTER  THAT  THOU 
SHALT  CUT  IT  DOWN. LvM  XIII.   6 9, 

Our  Saviour's  style  of  preaclimg  is  peculiar.  He 
abounds  in  metaphor  and  similitude.  His  imagery  is 
mainly  derived  from  objects  that  are  well  known  to 
the  people  at  large,  and  as  they  are  an  agricultural 
community,  he  alludes  freely  to  those  things  which 
are  closely  connected  with  fields,  and  vineyards,  and 
gardens,  and  the  arts  of  husbandry.  These  pecu- 
liarities of  style  render  his  preaching  both  intelligi- 
ble to  the  mass,  and  highly  attractive  to  all.  There 
is  also  a  peculiar  pertinency  in  his  discourses.  On 
one  occasion,  when  he  addressed  the  people,  it  is  re- 
4 


38  SERMON  ir. 

marked  by  the  inspired  historian  that  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees  perceived  that  he  spake  of  them.  It 
is  manifest  that  it  must  have  been  equally  clear  to 
his  auditors  when  he  uttered  the  words  of  our  text 
that  he  intended  a  direct  application  to  themselves. 
The  Jewish  people  were  well  represented  by  such  a 
tree,  thus  planted  out  in  a  vineyard,  in  circumstances 
most  favorable  to  the  production  of  fruit.  God  has 
given  them  distinguished  advantages.  He  has  waited 
for  a  long  period  to  see  the  happy  results  of  his  care 
and  culture.  No  suitable  fruits  of  holiness  appear. 
Justice  demands  their  destruction.  Mercy  interposes 
and  pleads  for  delay,  but  pleads  with  an  express  pro- 
mise to  submit  to  the  fatal  stroke  upon  her  favored 
people,  without  remonstrance,  if  they  be  not  soon  re- 
covered from  their  sins.  Such  was  the  primary  ap- 
plication of  this  parable. 

It  will  be  readily  perceived,  however,  that  prin- 
ciples are  here  involved  which  are  perfectly  applica- 
ble to  a  large  class  of  individuals.  Probably,  many 
such  are  now  before  me.  The  parable  draws  our 
attention  to  a  single  tree.  From  this  I  take  the  hint 
to  address  myself  to  an  individual.  Allow  me,  then, 
my  friend,  to  single  you  out  by  a  description  of  your 
character  and  state,  and  then  to  call  your  attention 
to  the  struggle  which  is  now  going  on  between  Jus- 
tice and  Mercy  in  relation  to  your  present  position. 

God  has  given  you  distinguished  privileges.  Your 
lot  has  been  cast  in  a  favored  nation.  The  highest 
degree  of  civil  freedom  has  been   secured   to  you. 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         39 

You  command  your  own  time;  you  choose  your  own 
profession ;  and  in  a  greater  degree  than  the  citizens 
of  any  other  country  in  the  whole  world,  you  give 
shape  and  character  to  your  worldly  fortune.  You 
enjoy  the  most  perfect  religious  liberty.  You  are 
not  subjected  to  a  priesthood  who  are  interested  in 
binding  you  in  the  chains  of  superstition,  and  in  claim- 
ing the  power  of  absolution  from  sin,  and  consequently, 
the  power  of  withholding  it,  and  leaving  you  to  pe- 
rish eternally.  On  the  contrary,  your  religious  teach- 
ers and  pastors  claim  only  to  be  helpers  of  your 
faith,  and  urgently  commend  to  your  study  the  word 
of  God,  and  beg  of  you  to  search  the  Scriptures 
daily,  and  to  see  whether  the  things  which  they  teach 
are  so,  that  your  faith  may  stand  not  in  the  wisdom 
of  men,  but  in  the  power  of  God.  You  are  de- 
scended from  a  religious  ancestry.  The  good  habits 
engendered  by  the  piety  of  your  progenitors  have 
been  transmitted  in  some  degree  to  yourself.  These 
influences  have  imparted  sentiments  of  respect  for 
the  Sabbath,  for  the  gospel,  for  the  public  worship  of 
God.  They  have  brought  your  feet  this  morning 
within  the  precincts  of  the  sanctuary.  You  have 
enjoyed  liberal  advantages  for  obtaining  Christian 
instruction.  It  may  be  that  the  Sunday-school,  or 
even  the  rich  advantages  of  the  catechismal  in- 
struction of  pious  parents,  have  exerted  their  influ- 
ence in  enlightening  your  understanding,  and  in 
quickening  your  conscience.  But,  whether  you  have 
enjoyed  all  these  advantages  or  only  a  considerable 


40  ■  SERMON  II. 

proportion  of  them,  you  are  a  highly  favored  person. 
You  are  like  a  fig-tree  -which  a  certain  man  planted 
in  his  vineyard. 

Time,  also,  has  been  allowed  you  to  make  reason- 
able returns  to  God  of  gratitude  and  holy  obedience. 
Instruction  has  been  imparted;  various  and  salutary 
providential  discipline  has  been  administered ;  a  sea- 
son, sufficiently  long  to  warrant  the  most  happy  re- 
sults, has  passed.  God  has  sought  for  fruit.  He 
has  found  none.  Another  period  has  elapsed.  The 
means  of  grace  have  been  multiplied.  Instruction 
has  distilled  like  the  dew.  The  divine  Spirit  has 
come  upon  you  like  the  warm  breath  of  summer. 
God  comes  a^ain  seekino^  fruit  and  finds  none.  Yet 
forbearance  is  manifested.  Another  year  has  elapsed. 
God  has  multiplied  the  appliances  of  his  grace.  The 
calls  of  the  gospel  have  sounded  through  all  the 
chambers  of  your  soul.  Conscience  has  been  loud  in 
her  remonstrances.  Warnins^s  have  sometimes  ere- 
ated  great  apprehensions  lest  abused  mercies  should 
turn  to  vengeance.  Others  have  been  converted; 
you  are  left.  Some  who  slighted  the  overtures  of 
grace  have  been  cut  down  during  the  past  year. 
The  year  has  come  to  its  close.  God  approaches 
you,  my  unconverted  friend,  seeking  fruit  this  morn- 
ing,    lie  finds  none. 

One  result,  which  was  reasonably  to  have  been  ex- 
pectod  long  since,  is  that  you  should,  renounce  this 
world  as  your  portion,  and  consecrate  yourself  en- 
tirely to  God.     No  such  fruit  is  discoverable.     You 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         41 

still  cling  to  earthly  things  as  jour  highest  means  of 
happiness.  You  have  never  declared  the  Lord  to  be 
your  portion ;  you  have  never  maintained  for  one 
day,  nor  one  hour,  nor  one  moment,  the  sentiment 
expressed  by  an  apostle:  "I  will  glory  in  nothing 
save  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  bv  whom 
the  world  is  crucified  to  me  and  I  unto  the  world." 
You  have  made  no  efforts  to  promote  the  spiritual 
interests  of  your  fellow-men.  You  have  made  no 
faithful  offers  of  the  gospel  to  your  impenitent  friends. 
Y'our  dearest  kindred  have  been  left  by  you  to  the 
same  unbroken  slumber  in  sin  as  if  you  had  not  pos- 
sessed the  means  of  influencing  them.  You  have  not 
uttered  one  warning,  proffered  one  invitation  of  mer- 
cy, breathed  one  prayer  for  them,  or  evinced  the  least 
anxiety  for  their  salvation.  In  this  respect  you  have 
manifested  none  of  the  fruits  of  holiness.  Nor  have 
you  done  anything  to  cause  your  Saviour's  name  to 
be  honored,  or  to  promote  the  spiritual  well-being  of 
his  church.  God  comes  seeking  fruit  and  finds  none 
— absolutely  none  at  all. 

Kor  are  you  merely  destitute  of  fruit,  but  being  so, 
you  exert  a  baneful  influence.  The  tree  in  the  para- 
ble cumbered  the  ground ;  or  as  the  original  phrase 
means,  rendered  the  ground  sterile ;  did  positive 
harm.  Thus,  have  you  diffused  your  sentiments  of 
worldliness,  and  encouraged  others  in  sin  by  your  ex- 
ample of  delay,  if  not  even  by  an  openly  wicked  con- 
duct.    Xow,  my  friend,  have  I  described  your  state? 

Have  vou  cniovcd  sireat  advantacres?     Have  vou  re- 

4>:< 


42  SERMON  ir. 

ceived  from  the  hand  of  your  heavenly  Father  a 
thousand  mercies,  felt  the  influence  of  Christian  in- 
stitutions and  Christian  instruction,  and  been  the 
subject  of  great  forbearance  ?  Has  God  borne  long 
"with  you,  and  called  you  often,  and  come  seeking 
fruit;  and  now  "when  this  year  has  just  drawn  to  a 
close,  must  it  be  said  that  you  yield  absolutely  no 
fruit ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  you  are  exerting  an 
influence  positively  hostile  to  piety?  Be  assured, 
then,  justice  demands  that  you  should  be  cut  down. 
Yet  mercy  pleads  for  delay.  You  are  the  object  of 
a  deeply  interesting  struggle. 

I  assume  here,  that  it  is  of  no  consequence,  in 
the  application  of  this  parable,  to  determine  whether 
the  certain  man  who  said  ''cut  it  down,  why  cumbereth 
it  the  ground,"  represents  God  the  Father,  or  whether 
the  dresser  of  the  vineyard  who  pleads  for  delay,  means 
Christ.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  God,  as  one  that 
vindicates  his  holy  law,  demands  your  instant  punish- 
ment, and  yet,  as  a  matter  of  forbearance  and  mercy, 
he  finds  reason  for  delay,  in  the  desire  that  you  may 
be  brought  to  repentance.  The  struggle  is  in  the 
same  bosom,  and  is  analogous  to  that  sometimes  ex- 
perienced by  a  just  and  benevolent  human  being,  who 
is  at  the  same  time  urged  by  the  claims  of  law  and 
order  to  inflict  deserved  punishment,  and  yet  is  im- 
pelled by  the  desire  of  reforming  and  saving,  to  delay 
the  stroke  of  justice.  But,  the  thought  will  be  clothed 
with  a  peculiar  dramatic  interest,  if  you  will  contem- 
plate the  struggle,  which  is  a  real  one,  under  a  ^;£?r- 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         43 

sonification  of  justice  and  mercy,  and  an  ardent  conflict 
between  them. 

Suppose,  then,  that  your  senses  are  locked  up  from 
all  commerce  with  worldly  objects.  You  lie  in  one  of 
those  rapt  states  into  which  the  ancient  prophets  were 
wont  to  be  thrown  when  God  presented  his  truth  to 
them,  in  the  most  vivid  manner.  Your  attention  is 
directed  to  the  heavens.  You  perceive,  descending 
towards  the  earth,  two  bright  angelic  beings,  one  fol- 
lowing the  other  at  a  distance.  The  foremost  alights 
and  stands  by  your  side.  The  form  is  masculine  and 
gigantic.  He  is  girt  with  brilliant  steel  armor,  and 
bears  in  his  right  hand  a  sword  of  terrific  brightness. 
An  expression  of  mingled  purity  and  sternness  beams 
from  his  countenance.  He  surveys  you  attentively, 
and  his  very  look  arouses  your  slumbering  conscience, 
and  assures  you,  beyond  the  possibility  of  mistake,  that 
it  is  Justice  come  down  on  purpose  to  cut  you  in  sun- 
der and  appoint  you  your  portion  with  hypocrites  and 
unbelievers.  The  sword  is  slowly,  and  calmly  lifted 
up.  The  compressed  lips  and  flashing  eye  declare 
his  determined  purpose.  You  lie  helpless  and  speech- 
less at  his  feet.  At  this  moment,  the  being  whom 
you  had  seen  following  Justice  at  a  distance,  alights 
by  his  side,  and  seizes  the  blade  and  draAvs  it  away 
from  its  threatening  posture.  Her  whole  action  is 
marked  by  an  indescribable  sweetness.  The  pure 
draper}^  of  heaven  floats  around  her  form.  Her  coun- 
tenance is  full  of  benevolence  and  compassion.  Her 
lips  quiver  with  emotion,  and  tears  trickle  down  her 


44  SERMON  II. 

cheek.  Justice  exclaims,  ''Let  me  alone;  I  will 
strike ;  I  -will  cut  liim  down.  Law  has  been  outraged 
long  enough.  Blessings  bought  with  blood  have 
been  despised.  The  Saviour's  entreaties  have  been 
basely  slighted,  and  you,  yourself,  have  fallen  into 
contempt,  as  if  you  possessed  no  other  quality  than  an 
amiable  weakness,  and  could  not  withdraw  and  leave 
the  sinner  to  his  deserved  doom."  "  Hold,  Justice  !  I 
have,  in  my  hand,  a  pardon  for  that  offender.  I  im- 
plore you  to  spare  him,  till  he  be  further  treated  with. 
Perhaps  he  may  be  brought  to  repentance.  Then  a 
soul  shall  be  saved  from  death.  Then,  the  heavenly 
harps  shall  all  be  tuned  anew.  Then  the  glorious 
Saviour  shall  have  another  bright  gem  in  his  crown, 
and  even  you,  yourself  shall  be  satisfied.  Spare  him 
for  the  sake  of  the  good  that  shall  follow."  "  The  good 
that  shall  follow,''  rejoins  the  stern  executioner;  "the 
good  that  shall  follow !  Evil,  and  only  evil  has  been 
the  consequence  of  all  former  delay.  Ilis  example  of 
deliberately  preferring  earthly  things  to  the  things 
that  are  above,  has  been  most  baneful.  His  deliberate 
slighting  of  the  overtures  of  grace  hasemboldened  hun- 
dreds in  the  same  neglect.  Many  a  giddy  youth  is  this 
day  deferring  repentance  because  he  has  seemed  to  do 
it  with  impunity  ;  because  forbearance  has  been  so  long 
protracted  in  this  instance.  Others  shall  be  brought 
to  feel  salutary  apprehension  by  a  prompt  execution 
in  this  instance.  It  is  a  necessary  procedure.  He 
will  neither  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven  himself,  nor 
suflfer  those  that  were  cntorino;  to  go  in.     He  stands 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         45 

like  a  barren  fig-tree  in  a  vineyard,  destroying  the  fer- 
tility of  lands  that  had  else  produced  the  choicest 
fruit ;  let  me  cut  it  down.  Why  cumbereth  it  the 
ground?"  "Yet,"  says  Mercy, "  more  culture  may  se- 
cure the  expected  fruit.  Let  me  employ  the  appropri- 
ate means  for  securing  a  sincere  repentance.  Let  truth 
be  made  to  shine  into  that  dark  heart.  Let  his  un- 
derstanding be  more  thoroughly  convinced.  Let 
conscience  be  appealed  to.  Let  apprehension  be 
awakened.  Let  the  love  of  God,  and  the  bleeding 
compassion  of  Christ,  be  brought  before  him.  Perhaps 
he  may  repent ;  there  is,  at  least,  a  possibility  that 
the  lost  soul  may  be  recovered." 

"Possibility!"  cries  Justice;  "and  do  you  expect 
me  to  delay  execution  for  the  hundredth  time  because 
there  is  a  bare  possibility  of  repentance?  What  are 
the  probabilities  ?  Have  not  the  means  of  grace  all 
been  exhausted  on  this  undeserving  subject?  He 
has  been  instructed  till  he  knows  all  the  leading 
truths  of  the  gospel.  For  a  long  time  he  has  not 
depended  upon  the  presence  of  the  living  teacher  to 
make  the  appeals  of  religion  to  his  heart.  The  great 
truths  of  revelation  have  taken  up  their  residence  in 
his  soul.  When  he  is  alone  amid  his  usual  avocations, 
in  his  chamber,  or  on  his  bed  by  night,  these  truths 
speak  to  his  heart  and  awaken  his  conscience.  He 
has  listened  to  preaching  till  it  has  lost  its  eifect. 
Instruction  falls  upon  him  like  dew  on  a  rock.  Ex- 
hortation he  regards  as  a  weak  attempt  to  work  upon 
his  feelings;  an  attempt  which  he  has  too  much  ex- 


46  SERMON  ir. 

pericnce  to  be  Influenced  by.  Warnings  he  has  learned 
to  esteem  as  threatenings  used  for  effect;  threatenings 
that  will  not,  at  the  most,  be  executed  speedily.  He 
has  been  chastened  in  vain.  Sickness,  and  bereave- 
ment by  death,  have  again  and  again  clad  his  soul  with 
sackcloth,  and  compelled  him  to  weep  over  the  empti- 
ness and  uncertainty  of  earthly  good.  Yet  he  clings 
to  his  remaining  idols.  Sorrows  have  been  removed 
again,  and  prosperity,  like  the  smileof  God,  has  beamed 
upon  him.  Yet  he  has  only  been  glad.  Not  one  re- 
turn of  heartfelt  thankfulness  has  been  made,  nor 
has  he  once  asked,  '  Where  is  God,  my  Maker,  who 
giveth  me  songs  in  the  night?' 

"  Christ  has  called  him  a  hundred  times  by  his  Holy 
Spirit,  and  all  in  vain.  He  has  come  to  his  door  and 
knocked.  No  answer.  The  Saviour  has  waited. 
He  has  stood  there  all  night.  His  head  has  been 
wet  with  the  dews,  and  his  locks  with  the  chilly  drops. 
The  ungrateful  soul  would  not  arise  and  let  his  Sa- 
viour in.  No,  his  bands  are  made  strong ;  his  heart 
is  growing  more  callous.  He  holds  a  relation  to  the 
assaults  of  gospel  influence,  such  as  Leviathan  held 
to  his  enemies,  when  it  was  said,  *  His  heart  is  as 
firm  as  a  stone,  as  hard  as  a  piece  of  the  nether  mill- 
stone. The  sword  of  him  that  layeth  at  him  cannot 
hold;  the  spear,  the  dart,  nor  the  habergeon.  He 
estcemcth  iron  as  straw,  and  brass  as  rotten  wood. 
The  arrow  cannot  make  him  flee ;  sling-stones  are 
turned  with  him  into  stubble.  Darts  are  counted  as 
stubble;     he  laughed   at  the   shaking   of    a  spear.' 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         47 

And  yet,  you  speak  of  the  possibility  that  such  an  one 
will  repent  under  an  application  of  the  same  means." 

"But,  0,"  says  Mercy,  "spare  him  but  a  little 
longer ;  one  year  more,  one  short  year ;  allow  him 
one  more  good  opportunity  for  making  his  peace  with 
God." 

"No,"  says  Justice,  "he  has  been  spared  too  long 
already.  He  uses  delay  only  to  harden  himself. 
This  very  method  of  procedure  to  which  you  would 
persuade  me,  aggravates  the  same  difficulty  in  the 
case  of  others.  Besides,  he  is  only  learning  from 
forbearance  to  defy  me,  and  treat  you  with  contempt. 
Let  me  alone ;  my  hand  has  taken  hold  on  judgment." 
So  saying,  he  wrenches  the  blade  from  the  hand  of 
Mercy  and  lifts  it  high  in  air,  and  the  fatal  stroke  is 
just  ready  to  descend.  Mercy  rushes  between  him 
and  the  stroke,  and  seizing  his  arm  exclaims,  "  Yet 
hear  but  one  plea  more.  Spare  him  for  a  single 
year,  only  one  year  more.  Then  all  my  importunity 
shall  end.  If  repentance  does  not  ensue  during  this 
year,  then,  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  him  down.  I 
will  interpose  no  obstacles.  I  shall  consider  that 
longer  delay  will  impede  my  work  in  regard  to  more 
hopeful  subjects.  If,  then,  you  come  and  lift  up 
your  sword  over  him,  as  now,  I  promise  to  be  silent. 
I  will  not  cast  one  look  towards  him.  I  will  sit  down 
veiled  at  your  feet,  and  when  the  blow  descends,  and 
I  hear  his  death-groan,  I  will  say.  Amen !  And  when 
I  hear  him  shriek  and  wail  as  he  shall  fall  down  by 
the  sides  of  the  pit,  I  will  calmly  say.  Justice  is 


48  SERMON  II. 

right;  God  is  good;  the  sinner  has  destroyed  himself; 
he  has  scorned,  and  he  alone  must  bear  it." 

The  countenance  of  Justice  relaxes.  He  accepts 
the  petition.  The  conference  breaks  up,  and  you 
are  spared  still  to  be  pursued  with  offers  of  pardon 
and  urgent  motives  to  repentance.  My  unconverted 
friend,  do  you  not  know  that  such  a  struggle  has  ex- 
isted for  a  long  time  in  relation  to  you  ?  The  fact 
that  you  have  not  been  thrown  into  such  a  state,  and 
seen  such  a  vision,  makes  no  difference  in  regard  to 
the  reality  of  the  conflict.  The  condemnatory  sen- 
tence of  God's  law  rests  upon  you.  There  are  strong 
reasons  for  a  prompt  execution.  Yet,  up  to  the  pre- 
sent moment,  the  pleadings  of  Divine  compassion 
have  secured  delay.  The  spiritual  privileges  of  an- 
other year  are  exhausted.  Its  last  Sabbath  is  past. 
Fifty-two  of  these  hallowed  seasons  have  been  se- 
cured for  you  by  the  Divine  forbearance.  The  calls 
of  grace  have  been  multiplied  and  various.  How 
many  clear  lessons  of  instruction  have  come  into 
your  understanding!  How  many  plain  admonitions 
have  visited  your  conscience!  How  many  solemn 
appeals  have  been  made  to  your  heart?  Mercies 
have  been  multiplied;  various  chastisements  have 
been  mingled  with  them.  The  Spirit  of  God  has 
called.  Yet  you  are  unconverted.  You  bear  no 
fruit.  Why  has  all  this  forbearance  been  exercised? 
Not  that  you  may  be  profitable  to  God.  He  can  fill 
his  kingdom  with  joyful  subjects,  and  his  courts  with 
eternal  praise,  without  your  aid.     He  has  not  for- 


STRUaGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         49 

borne  with  you,  because  his  church  cannot  go  forward 
without  your  help.  He  can  raise  up  converts  and 
useful  defenders  of  his  religion  from  men  in  less  fa- 
vored conditions.  When  the  Jews  judged  themselves 
unworthy  of  eternal  life,  God  turned  to  the  Gentiles, 
and  raised  up  a  new  class  of  defenders  and  propa- 
gators of  his  religion.  So  now  he  can  pass  you  by, 
and  call  that  foolish  scoffer,  and  make  him  a  thought- 
ful man  and  a  serious  Christian.  He  can  leave  you 
in  your  respectability  and  your  pride,  and  take  that 
poor  vagrant,  whose  mind  is  obscured  by  squalid 
poverty  and  want  of  early  culture,  and  make  him  a 
subject  of  grace,  and  adorn  his  soul  with  learning, 
and  make  it  fragrant  with  piety,  and  honor  him  as 
the  instrument  of  promoting  his  cause.  He  bears 
with  you  only  for  your  good.  He  bears  with  you 
because  he  would  secure  your  repentance  and  conse- 
quent happiness.  He  sees  the  fearfulness  of  your 
doom  if  the  sword  of  justice  be  once  permitted  to 
fall.  To  cut  off  hope  forever  is  fearful.  He  knows 
that  the  pangs  of  impenitent  remorse  are  unuttera- 
ble ;  that  the  worm  that  dieth  not,  and  the  level  lake 
that  burneth  are  terrific,  and  that  despair  eternal,  is 
an  evil  far,  far  beyond  all  your  most  awful  anticipa- 
tions. He  is  reluctant  to  surrender  you  to  such  a 
doom;  and  he  is  saying  now  of  you,  as  he  said  of  his 
people  of  old,  "How  shall  I  give  thee  up,  Ephraim; 
how  shall  I  deliver  thee,  Israel?  My  heart  is  turned 
within  me;  my  repentings  are  kindled  together." 
He  knows  also  the  full  advantages  of  your  being  re- 
5 


60  SERMON  ir. 

covered  from  that  lost  estate  by  a  genuine  conver- 
sion, lie  appreciates  the  advantages  to  your  own 
happiness,  of  your  being  turned  to  God.  He  knows 
that  there  is  peace  and  joy  in  believing  in  Christ ; 
that  a  quiet  conscience  is  worth  more  than  heaps  of 
gold  and  silver,  and  that  gushes  of  grateful  joy  spring 
from  a  trustful  reliance  on  a  Saviour's  merits.  He 
sees  the  value  of  a  triumphant  Christian  death ;  an 
acquittal  at  the  judgment-seat;  a  robe  of  innocence, 
a  palm  of  victory,  a  crown  of  glory,  and  a  golden 
harp,  and  a  companionship  with  the  blest,  and  a  seat 
with  Christ  on  his  throne.  He  cannot  bear  that  you 
should  lose  all  this;  lose  it,  too,  when  it  can  be  had 
for  nothing  but  the  mere  willingness  to  accept  it. 

Are  you  not  aware,  my  dear  friend,  that  there  is 
an  unspeakable  aggravation  of  guilt,  in  neglecting 
opportunities  thus  secured  by  the  pleading  of  Divine 
forbearance  ?  Men  are  deceived  respecting  degrees 
of  guilt,  by  associating  it  with  crime.  Guilt,  as  con- 
nected with  overt  action,  and  especially  with  violence 
and  bloodshed,  appeals  to  our  passions,  and  makes  a 
strong  impression.  Yet  a  little  reflection  may  con- 
vince any  one,  that  the  greater  degrees  of  guilt  are 
incurred  when  the  soul  is  in  the  most  calm  and  deli- 
berate state. 

To  make  clear  the  distinction  here  referred  to,  let 
mo  state  a  supposed  case.  A  man  of  depraved  cha- 
racter, in  the  gratification  of  a  revengeful  spirit,  has 
wantonly  destroyed  the  life  of  one  of  your  dearest 
friends.     He  is  arrested,  and  condemned.     The  day 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         51 

of  his  execution  is  appointed.  Before  the  fatal  period 
•arrives,  your  feelings  of  indignation  are  cooled,  your 
heart  sickens  at  the  thought  of  such  a  punishment, 
with  all  its  eternal  consequences.  You  seek  gene- 
rously to  secure  the  pardon  of  the  offender.  Suppose, 
now,  you  find  that  there  are  two  difficulties  in  the 
way;  one  in  the  government,  and  one  in  the  continued 
revengeful  feelings  of  the  condemned  man.  Law 
will  be  relaxed,  and  government  will  lose  its  restrain- 
ing power,  if  something  be  not  done  for  its  protection. 
You  devise  a  scheme  by  which  the  law  may  be  honored, 
but  it  is  a  scheme  which  will  cost  you  personal  sufferings 
that  are  nearly  equivalent  to  death  itself.  Your  com- 
passion and  benevolence  have  carried  you  so  far,  how- 
ever, that  you  have  met  and  endured  the  suffering. 
But  one  thing  now  remains  to  be  done,  to  secure  the 
liberation  of  the  ofi'ender.  He  must  be  willinoj  to  ac- 
cept  the  pardon  as  your  gift  thus  purchased.  Ilis 
cheerful,  heartfelt,  grateful  acceptance  of  the  pardon 
shall  be  accounted  as  a  sentiment  which  involves  all 
the  principles  of  a  thorough  reformation.  You  go  to 
his  prison  and  bear  the  offer  of  pardon  in  your  hand. 
He  is  reading  a  tale  of  fiction,  and  will  not  stop  to 
listen  to  you,  beyond  the  bare  noticing  of  the  facts, 
and  admitting  their  truth.  The  day  of  execution 
comes,  and  you  plead  that  it  may  be  delayed  for  a 
year.  Your  request  is  granted.  Now  you  visit  him 
every  day.  You  find  him  at  different  times  engaged 
in  various  occupations.  At  one  time  he  is  engaged 
in  lucrative  labor,  and  shows  you  his  gains.     At  an- 


52  SERMON  11. 

Other  time,  he  is  making  himself  merry  with  a  friend 
that  has  been  permitted  to  visit  him.  He  listens  to. 
your  proposals  "with  more  attention  than  formerly,  but 
defers  compliance.  The  time  of  execution  draws  near. 
Again  you  plead  for  delay,  and  delay  is  granted. 
After  repeated  reprieves  of  this  kind,  he  begins  to 
flatter  himself  that  the  delay  of  justice  will  be  indefi- 
nite. The  more  assiduous  you  become,  the  more  does 
he  acquire  confidence  to  slight  your  offers.  If  you 
talk  of  justice,  he  smiles  at  the  thought  that  you 
should  hope  to  alarm  his  fears,  after  all  that  has 
passed.  You  speak  of  compassion,  and  kindness,  and 
suffering  on  his  behalf,  and  he  wonders  that  you  should 
think  he  possesses  such  a  woman's  heart,  as  to  be  sub- 
dued by  tears.  Now  do  you  not  perceive  that  the  degree 
of  guilt,  in  persisting  in  that  revengeful  feeling,  un- 
relaxed,  is  greater,  and  implies  more  depravity,  than 
the  original  crime.  The  stormy  temptation  of  the 
violent  passion  has  subsided,  and  yet  he  will  not  sur- 
render the  wicked  principle  that  governed  him.  On 
the  contrary,  he  has  added  to  it  a  perpetual  contempt 
of  justice,  and  the  deliberate  insult  of  mercy  and  for- 
bearance. He  may  be  less  addicted  to  crime,  but  his 
guilt  has  gone  on  gaining  power,  like  an  increasing 
river,  flowing  more  smoothly  and  calmly,  as  it  dis- 
tances its  native  hills,  but  moving  with  a  vastly  aug- 
mented volume,  and  increased  though  quiet  vigor  of 
current. 

I  am  aware  that  this  representation  may  seem  hard, 
but,  my  fellow-traveller  to  the  bar  of  God,  you  must 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         53 

allow  me  to  be  plain  with  you.  As  a  transgressor  of 
the  Divine  law,  you  are  justly  exposed  to  he  cast  off 
from  the  Divine  favor,  forever.  But  your  guilt  lies 
mainly  in  your  calm  neglect  of  the  overtures  of  mercy. 
The  blood  of  Christ  is  by  you  virtually  cast  contempt 
on.  Justice  is  despised.  Mercy  is  insulted;  and  the 
more  so  by  reason  of  the  long-protracted  forbearance 
of  God.  But  this  course  is  as  rash  and  hazardous  as 
it  is  sinful.  You  are  employing  all  the  moral  powers 
that  God  has  given  you  in  tempting  Justice  to  cut 
you  down.  You  have  no  assurance  of  another  hour's 
delay.  Mercy  may  have  pleaded  that  you  should  be 
spared  this  year  only.  She  may  have  stipulated  to 
interpose  no  further.  She  may  be  turning  away  and 
veiling  her  face  this  very  hour,  knowing  that  Justice 
is  about  to  strike — that  you  will  utter  one  convulsive 
sob,  and  then  wail  among  the  lost.  When  Mercy  will 
thus  withdraw  you  know  not.  God  intends  that  you 
shall  feel  all  the  influence  of  a  total  uncertainty  with 
respect  to  the  time.  Some  who  were  warned  at  the 
beginning  of  the  last  year  have  fallen  in  their  sins. 
You  can  give  no  reason  why  Justice  has  not  cut  you 
down.  I  remember  to  have  witnessed  an  instance  in 
which  this  thought  was  overwhelming.  I  met  a 
friend  of  about  forty  years  of  age.  He  was  pale 
and  trembling,  and  a  tear  glistened  in  his  eye. 
^'What  is  the  matter,  my  friend?"  I  asked.  ^'0," 
said  he,  "  I  have  just  heard  of  the  death  of  a  ne- 
phew of  about  eighteen  years  old.  He  was  a  dis- 
solute and  profane  young  man,  and  has  been  sud- 

5* 


54  SERMON  II. 

(Icnly  cut  down  in  his  sins.  But  what  affects  me  most 
is  the  reflection  that  at  his  age  I  was  like  him.  If  I 
had  died  then  thus  suddenly  I  should  have  been  now 
in  hell." 

Let  me  say  in  conclusion,  my  beloved  friend,  you 
have  stood  in  jeopardy  long  enough.  Beware  of  that 
uplifted  sword  of  Justice.  Trust  not  to  coming  years. 
"  Now  is  the  accepted  time — now  is  the  day  of  salva- 
tion." God  has  not  promised  to  spare  you  longer. 
You  are  not  certain  that  you  shall  see  the  end  of  this 
year.  Mercy  may  have  pleaded  for  forbearance  in 
your  case  only  for  a  stipulated  period.  This  may  be 
the  last  Sabbath  of  that  period ;  this  may  be  the  last 
gospel  invitation  up  to  the  point  of  time  of  which  it 
has  been  said,  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  it  down.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  I  am  not  authorized  to  offer  you  salva- 
tion for  one  hour  beyond  the  present.  Remember, 
that  now  you  are  invited  to  come  to  your  Saviour  and 
receive  a  full  and  free  pardon.  You  may  go  quietly 
away  from  this  sanctuary  this  morning,  and  there 
shall  be  nothing  in  your  conduct  or  appearance  to 
attract  attention.  No  man  may  be  able  to  say,  see 
how  he  stifles  conviction,  and  resists  the  Holy  Spirit 
— but,  men  may  say  of  you  before  another  warning 
shall  fall  upon  your  ear — 

"  Ilis  quivering  lip  hangs  feebly  down, 
His  pulse  is  faint  and  few, 
Then,  speechless  Avith  a  doleful  groan; 
He  bids  the  world  adieu. 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  JUSTICE  AND  MERCY.         55 

*'  But,  oh,  the  soul  that  never  dies  ! 
Soon  as  it  leaves  its  clay, 
Ye  thoughts  pursue  it  where  it  flies, 
And  track  its  wondrous  way. 

**  Up  to  the  courts  where  angels  dwell 
It  mounts  and  triumphs  there, 
Or  devils  plunge  it  down  to  hell. 
In  infinite  despair." 


SERMON   III. 

THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY  J  OR,  THE  BLIND  BEGGAR. 
And  they  came  to  Jericho  :  and  as  he  went  out  of  Jericho, 

WITH  HIS  disciples,  AND  A  GREAT  NUMBER  OF  PEOPLE,  BLIND  BaRTI- 

meus,  the  son  of  timeus,  sat  by  the  highway  side,  begging. 
And  when  he  heard  that  it  was  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  he  began 

TO  CRY  OUT,  AND  SAY,  JeSUS,  THOU  SON  OF  DaVID,  HAVE  MERCY  ON 

ME.  And  many  charged  him  that  he  should  hold  his  peace  ; 

BUT  HE  CRIED  THE  MORE  A  GREAT  DEAL,  ThOU  SON  OF  DaTID  HAVE 
MERCY  ON  ME.  AnD  JeSUS  STOOD  STILL,  AND  COMMANDED  HIM  TO  BE 
CALLED  ;  AND  THEY  CALL  THE  BLIND  MAN,  SAYING  UNTO  HIM,  Be  OF 
GOOD  COMFORT,  RISE  ;  HE  CALLETH  THEE.  AnD  HE,  CASTING  AWAY 
HIS  GARMENT,  ROSE,  AND  CAME  TO  JeSUS.  AnD  JeSUS  ANSWERED 
AND  SAID  UNTO  HIM,  WhAT  WILT  THOU  THAT  I  SHOULD  DO  UNTO  THEE? 
The  BLIND    MAN  SAID  UNTO  HIM,  LORD,  THAT    I    MIGHT  RECEIVE    MY 

SIGHT.     And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Go  thy  way;  thy  faith  hath 

MADE  THEE  WHOLE.      AnD  IMMEDIATELY  HE  RECEIVED  HIS  SIGHT  AND 

FOLLOWED  Jesus  in  the  way. — Mark  x.  4G — 52. 

The  wisdom  of  our  Saviour  is  strikingly  exemplified 
in  his  accomplishing  a  great  variety  of  momentous 
results  by  a  single  act.  The  miracle  recorded  in  our 
text  subserves  a  highly  useful  end  in  evincing  the  Di- 
vine authority  of  the  mission  of  Christ.  .  Besides  this 
main  design,  however,  it  accomplished  several  other 
important  objects.     It  relieved  extreme  suffering,  and 


THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  57 

elicited  gratitude  and  praise  to  God.  Not  less  im- 
portant to  us  is  the  influence  of  the  recorded  narra- 
tive, in  encouraging  all  the  needy  to  make  application 
to  Christ  for  relief;  and  in  illustrating  the  principles 
according  to  which  God  bestows  his  gifts  upon  sup- 
pliants. 

I  SHALL  LIMIT  MYSELF  TO  THIS  ONE  DESIGN  OF  THE 
PASSAGE,  AND  ASK  YOUR  ATTENTION  TO  SEVERAL  FEA- 
TURES IN  THE  STORY,  BY  WHICH  I  HOPE  TO  SHOW  YOU 
IN  AN  INTELLIGIBLE  LIGHT  HOW  TO  OBTAIN  THE  FAVOR 

OF  God. 

It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  by  any  reflecting  mind, 
that  one  object  in  restoring  this  blind  man  to  the  use 
of  his  eyesight,  and  in  preserving  a  record  of  the 
deed,  and  of  the  circumstances  attending  it,  was  to 
set  forth  clearly  the  principles  according  to  which 
God  bestows  gifts  upon  men.  I  shall  assume,  there- 
fore, in  this  discourse,  that  all  who  now  hear  me  need 
favors  from  God;  that  your  condition  by  nature  is 
not  less  necessitous  than  that  of  Bar-Timeus,  and  that 
the  principles  brought  to  view  in  this  narrative  are  of 
universal  application.     Let  it  be  observed : — 

1.  First  of  all,  then,  that  a  view  of  his  necessities  as 
being  very  great,  moved  this  blind  man  to  his  earnest 
and  successful  endeavors  to  obtain  relief  from  the  Sa- 
viour. Perhaps  there  are  no  suff*erers  among  our  un- 
happy race  that  can  awaken  deeper  sympathy  and  a 
more  tender  pity  in  our  bosoms  than  the  blind.  They 
are  cut  ofi"  from  so  many  innocent  delights,  so  inca- 
pacitated for  useful  employments,  and  exposed  to  so 


58  SERMON  III. 

many  dangers,  where  others  walk  in  safety;  that  we 
can  scarcely  look  upon  a  blind  man  Avithout  an  in- 
voluntary yearning  for  his  restoration  to  the  light  of 
day.  This  poor  beggar  betokens,  by  the  earnestness 
and  irrepressible  importunity  of  his  cry,  that  he  has 
pondered  deeply  the  gloomy  necessities  of  his  case. 
He  was  each  morning  awaked  by  the  hum  of  human 
voices,  and  the  songs  of  birds,  and  the  stir  of  business; 
but  the  same  darkness  ever  remained  to  him.  He 
knew  from  others  that  the  light  silently  climbed  up 
the  sky  every  day,  and  threw  its  golden  robes  over 
the  mountains,  and  spread  green  carpets  upon  the 
lawns,  and  rich  embroideries  upon  the  fields  and  gar- 
dens ;  yet,  to  him,  over  all  this  was  thrown  a  black 
pall,  wrapping  alike  universal  nature  and  his  own  soul 
in  impenetrable  gloom.  His  desires  were  mocked  by 
the  suggestions  of  one  sense  and  the  stern  denials  of 
another.  If  he  heard  the  notes  of  music,  and  those 
most  musical  of  all  sounds  the  tones  of  affection  and 
friendship,  yet  he  saw  not  the  more  interesting  play 
of  the  gentler  sentiments  as  they  come  and  go  with 
smiles  and  tears,  with  pensive  marches,  and  jubilant 
dances,  upon  the  human  countenance.  He  might  feel 
the  sun's  heat  only  to  be  reminded  that  its  light  availed 
naught  for  him,  and  thus  address  it,  as  Milton  did,  in 
his  blindness. 

"  But  thou  rcvisitest  not  these  eyes,  that  roll  in  vain 
To  find  thy  piercing  ray,  and  find  no  da%n^ 
So  thick  a  drop  serene  hath  quenched  their  orbs, 
Or  dim  suflfusion  veiled  ; — thus  with  the  year 


THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  59 

Seasons  return,  but  not  to  me  returns, 
Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  e'en  or  morn, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine  ; 
But  cloud  instead,  and  ever-during  dark 
Surrounds  me,  from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men 
Cut  off,  and  for  the  book  of  knowledge  fair, 
Presented  with  a  universal  blank; 
Of  Nature's  works  to  me  expunged  and  rased. 
And  wisdom  at  one  entrance  quite  shut  out." 

But,  besides  being  deprived  of  these  pure  pleasures, 
he  was  incapacitated  for  the  ordinary  avocations  of 
life.  Destitute  of  worldly  possessions,  he  had  no  hope 
of  acquiring  wealth,  nor  even  of  securing  a  comforta- 
ble competency.  On  the  contrary,  he  depended  on 
the  charities  of  a  cold  world.  The  self-respect  that 
belongs  to  ordinary  independence  was  denied  him. 
If  he  went  abroad,  every  step  was  attended  with  dan- 
ger.    He  sat,  therefore,  by  the  way-side  and  begged. 

Is  it  wonderful  that  "  the  darkness  of  his  dull  abode, 
fell  on  him  as  a  heavy  load?"  Is  it  wonderful  that 
he  was  aroused  when  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  a  pass- 
ing multitude,  and  that,  on  learning  that  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  who  had  relieved  so  many  of  the  wretched, 
was  going  by,  he  cried  aloud  and  said,  "Jesus,  thou 
son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  me!"  Here  was  the 
spring  of  his  desires,  his  first  motive  to  exertion.  He 
had  contemplated  his  real  condition.  He  felt  that  it 
was  wretched.  There  was  light  enough.  The  world 
was  full  of  it.  But  it  was  of  no  avail  to  him.  The 
earth  was  adorned  with  beauties,  and  the  heavens  were 


60  SERMON  III. 

ever  and  anon  hung  all  about  with  a  gorgeous  tapes- 
try ;  but,  to  him,  it  was  all  a  dark  and  naked  waste. 
The  world  was  a  storehouse  of  food  and  raiment ;  but 
he  was  in  beggary  and  rags,  because  he  could  not  de- 
scry the  paths  of  successful  industry.  He  had  eyes 
to  see,  but  their  vision  was  veiled,  and  he  saw  not. 
These  views  prepared  him  to  make  strenuous  exertions 
for  relief. 

Precisely  in  the  same  manner,  my  friends,  must  the 
work  begin  with  you  if  you  ever  find  relief  for  your 
spiritual  necessities.  Contemplate  your  religious  state. 
If  unconverted,  you  are  blind  alike  to  the  beauty  of 
heavenly  things,  to  the  means  of  supplying  your  spirit- 
ual wants,  and  to  the  dangers  which  beset  your  path. 
There  are  other  objects  for  the  mind  to  look  upon  be- 
sides those  of  the  senses;  and  these  objects  are  as 
much  above  material  things  as  man's  intellectual  and 
spiritual  nature  is  above  his  physical  organs.  There 
are  high  orders  of  pure  intelligences  rising  in  succes- 
sive grades  of  excellence  from  redeemed  saints  to 
angels,  and  archangels,  and  thrones,  and  dominions, 
and  powers.  Among  all  these  there  is  one  law  of  im- 
partial benevolence,  one  universal  sympathy.  In- 
finitely above  the  highest  rank  of  created  beings  is 
God,  the  maker  and  monarch  of  all.  His  government 
possesses  overpowering  attractions.  Its  end  is  high, 
involving  the  well-being  of  the  universe ;  the  glory  of 
liis  own  diaracter.  Its  laws  are  simple,  imposing  the 
obligations  of  universal  love  and  good-will.  The 
penalty  is  as  satisfactory  as  possible,  and  as  terrific 


THE  TMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  .61 

as  it  is  satisfactory,  giving  to  the  transgressor  the 
very  position  which  he  has  himself  chosen,  separation 
from  his  God;  and  rendering  that  separation  eternal. 
His  system  of  grace  and  mercy  is  amazing.  Its  first 
revealment  in  heaven  filled  that  blessed  world  with 
astonishment  and  delight.  Its  most  sensible  com- 
mencement, in  the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God,  drew 
the  angelic  choirs  down  to  earth,  and  every  sinner 
that  has  been  converted  since,  has  caused  a  new  thrill 
of  joy  among  the  angels  of  God.  All  the  saints  in 
heaven  and  on  earth,  and  all  the  heavenly  hosts  unite 
with  God  himself  in  contemplating  these  glorious  ob- 
jects. 

These  are  the  visions  of  those  who  have  been  brought 
out  of  darkness  into  God's  marvellous  light.     Like 
Moses,  they  endure   as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible. 
Like  Paul,  they  say,  amid  the  sharpest  trials,  "  our 
light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for 
us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory ; 
while  we  look  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen,  but 
at  the  things  which  are  not  seen;  for  the  things  which 
are  seen  are  temporal;  but  the  things  which  are  not 
seen   are  eternal."     To  the  beauties  of  these   high 
objects,  as   an  unconverted   sinner,  you   are  blind. 
God's  character  does  not  attract  your  delighted  gaze. 
The  principles  of  his  government  do  not  win  your 
attention.     If  you  turn  your  thoughts  towards  your 
Maker  you  do  not  catch  the  right  view  of  his  character. 
Your  position  is  wrong  for  beholding  the  object  aright. 
If  you  stood  before  him  as  his  people  did  when  in 
6 


62  SERMON  III. 

obedience  to  liis  command  thejleft  the  house  of  bond- 
age, you  should,  like  them,  recognize  his  presence  like 
the  cloud  of  mercy  that  embosomed  them  by  day,  and 
"was  as  a  wall  of  fire  for  their  defence  at  night.  But, 
you  are  on  the  Egyptian  side  of  it;  you  see  only 
frowns  and  darkness.  If  your  attention  be  directed 
towards  Christ,  he  is  as  a  root  out  of  dry  ground,  and 
there  is  no  form  nor  comeliness  in  him,  nor  beauty 
to  your  eye,  that  you  should  desire  him.  Did  it  never 
occur  to  you,  my  impenitent  friend,  that  what  Paul 
said  of  a  large  class  of  sinners  might  apply  most  ex- 
actly to  your  own  case  ?  "When  they  knew  God  they 
glorified  him  not  as  God,  neither  were  thankful,  but 
became  vain  in  their  imaginations,  and  their  foolish 
heart  was  darkened."  Did  you  ever  reflect  upon 
what  is  contained  in  the  fourth  chapter  and  eighteenth 
verse  of  his  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians?  If  you  will 
think  carefully  of  what  he  there  says,  you  will  per- 
ceive that  he  could  not  have  drawn  the  picture  more 
accurately  if  you  had  yourself  sat  for  the  portrait. 
His  language  is,  "  Having  the  understanding  dark- 
ened, being  alienated  from  the  life  of  God  through 
the  ignorance  that  is  in  them,  because  of  the  blind- 
ness of  their  heart."  And,  certain  it  is  that  you  do 
not  view  aright  the  means  of  supplying  your  spirit- 
ual necessities.  You  endeavor,  by  some  slight  amend- 
ment in  morals,  to  meet  the  wants  of  your  spiritual 
nature.  Experience  is  against  your  success,  and  ought 
to  cut  off  all  hope  from  this  source  at  once.  You 
look  for  light,  and  behold  darkness.    You  seek  to  keep 


THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  63 

the  law  as  a  ground  of  justification.  It  cannot  be 
done  ;  poor,  blinded  soul,  desist  from  the  vain  attempt. 
The  Lord  shall  smite  thee  with  madness  and  blindness 
and  astonishment  of  heart,  and  thou  shalt  grope  at 
noonday  as  the  blind  gropeth  in  darkness,  and  thou 
shalt  not  prosper  in  thy  ways. 

Equally  blind  are  you  to  the  real  dangers  of  your 
state.  You  know  neither  the  number  nor  the  power 
of  the  temptations  that  may  assail  you,  nor  the  strength 
of  your  own  corruptions.  But  God  has  taught  us  that 
the  way  of  the  wicked  is  as  darkness ;  they  know  not 
at  what  they  stumble.  Their  way,  says  the  Psalmist, 
is  dark  and  slippery ;  and  Jeremiah  says :  "  Give  glory 
to  the  Lord  your  God  before  he  cause  darkness,  and 
before  your  feet  stumble  upon  the  dark  mountains, 
and  while  ye  look  for  light  he  turn  it  into  the  shadow 
of  death  and  make  it  gross  darkness."  No,  you  will 
never  seek  and  find  the  blessing  of  God  till  you  will 
fully  contemplate  your  blind,  and  guilty,  and  needy 
state.  Say  not  that  you  are  not,  and  cannot  be  sen- 
sible of  your  spiritual  necessities.  Only  ponder  the 
character  of  God,  and  the  methods  of  his  grace,  and 
you  shall  soon  be  conscious  of  your  blindness.  Bring 
yourself  to  the  study  of  the  Divine  word,  and  you  shall 
learn  that  your  soul  is  full  of  midnight.  Carry  your- 
self forward  to  death  and  the  judgment,  and  you  shall 
perceive  that  you  are  poor,  and  miserable,  and  blind, 
and  naked,  and  in  want  of  all  things.  Especially 
will  this  be  so  if  you  will  dwell  upon  these  truths  with 


64  SERMON  III. 

fervent  prayer  for  the  illuminating  influence  of  the 
Divine  Spirit. 

II.  Anotlicr  tiling  wldcli  marked  ilie  course  of  the 
blind  mendicant,  and  was  essential  to  his  relief,  ivas 
his  application  to  Clirist  alone.  He  may  have  tried 
all  prescribed  remedies.  He  may  have  listened  to  a 
hundred  advisers,  and  found  them  "  physicians  of  no 
value."  But  now  Jesus,  the  anointed  son  of  David, 
is  passing.  Others  have  been  healed  by  him.  The 
dead  have  been  awaked  by  his  power.  Hope  springs 
up  in  his  heart.  A  power  is  present  that  can  unbar 
the  dungeon  windows  of  his  imprisoned  soul.  Cast- 
ing away  all  other  hopes,  and  all  delay,  he  seizes  the 
opportunity  and  cries  to  the  Saviour  :  "Jesus,  thou 
son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  me.''  He  made  his 
application  to  the  right  source  and  at  the  right  time. 
No  other  power  in  the  universe  can  relieve  him.  No 
other  power  is  so  ready  to  interpose  in  behalf  of  the 
wretched. 

But  you  must  take  the  same  course  if  you  will  find 
relief  for  your  spiritual  necessities.  No  other  means 
can  avail  for  you  but  the  intervention  of  the  Son  of 
God.  No  forms  of  devotion  can  cause  you  to  see  the 
light  of  your  Father's  countenance.  No  priestly  ab- 
solution can  save  you ;  Christ  alone  hath  power  to 
forgive  sins.  No  sacrifice  of  innocent  animals  can 
meet  your  necessities. 

"  Not  all  the  blood  of  beasts 
On  Jewish  altars  slain, 
Could  ;];ivc  the  guilty  conscience  peace, 
Or  wash  awav  the  stain. 


THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  65 

"But  Christ,  the  heavenly  Lamb, 
Takes  all  our  sins  away  ; 
A  sacrifice  of  nobler  name, 
And  richer  blood  than  they." 

No  intercession  of  your  Christian  friends  or  your 
pastor  can  by  themselves  avail  for  you ;  but  you  have 
an  High-Priest  that  can  be  touched  with  the  feeling 
of  your  infirmity.  He  ever  liveth  to  make  pre^vailing 
intercession  for  all  who  come  to  him.  Go,  then,  to 
your  mere  forms  of  devotion,  and  you  shall  be  sent 
away  unhealed  and  unblessed.  Go  to  your  solemn 
ritual,  with  reliance  upon  it  for  peace,  and  your  sins 
shall  still  lie  heavy  on  your  soul.  Rest  upon  the 
correctness  of  your  doings,  your  external  morality, 
and  you  lean  upon  a  spear  that  shall  pierce  your  own 
soul.  Go  to  the  law  of  God,  and  attempt  by  keeping 
it  to  find  the  light  of  life,  and  you  shall  find  that  you 
have  come  to  blackness,  and  darkness,  and  tempest; 
and  the  thunders  and  lightnings  of  Sinai  shall  serve 
only  to  fill  your  soul  with  terror  and  tenfold  night. 
But  come  to  Jesus,  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant ; 
come  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling ;  come  to  him  who 
healed  every  applicant  that  approached  him  in  the 
days  of  his  flesh;  to  him  who  hath  said:  "  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest."  Come  to  him,  in  your  darkness,  and 
blindness,  and  guilt,  and  say:  ''Lord,  that  I  may 
receive  my  sight,"  and,  like  this  poor  blind  mendi- 
cant, you  shall  rejoice  in  your  recovered  vision,  and 
gratefuly  follow  your  Deliverer. 


6Q  SERMON  III. 

III.  Another  thine/  worthy  of  notice  in  the  conduct 
of  Bartimcus^  as  intimately  connected  ivitli  his  success, 
7vas  his  2^(''^'seve7'ance.  It  is  according  to  a  general 
arrangement  of  Divine  providence  that  perseverance 
is  necessary  to  the  accomplishment  of  desirable  ob- 
jects. God  will  not  violate  this  general  law  in  the 
methods  of  his  grace.  How  shall  it  be  known  to  the 
multitude  that  the  blind  man  really  confides  in  Christ 
for  healing?  How  shall  his  own  faith  be  invigorated 
and  proved  but  by  his  being  left  to  utter  earnest  and 
repeated  and  importunate  cries  for  relief?  This  he 
did  at  the  first;  for  we  read:  "  He  began  to  cry  out," 
implying  that  his  cries  were  reiterated.  Such  was 
his  earnestness,  too,  that  the  multitude  were  disturbed 
by  it,  and  many  charged  him  to  hold  his  peace.  Here 
was  a  powerful  influence  to  cool  his  ardor,  and  repress 
his  exertions.  If  he  had  not  been  in  a  most  deter- 
mined state  of  mind,  and  possessed  a  deep  sense  of 
his  necessities,  and  a  firm  confidence  in  the  Saviour,  he 
had  desisted  under  such  discouragement.  But  no, 
his  need  is  great;  he  is  blind;  none  but  Christ  can 
restore  him,  and  he  can ;  but  he  is  passing.  Shall 
he  heed  the  opposition  of  the  unpitying  multitude  ? 
''  He  cried  the  more  a  great  deal — Jesus,  thou  son  of 
David,  have  mercy  on  me." 

On  the  same  principle,  if  you  will  find  mercy  with 
your  Saviour,  you  must  persevere.  You  must  count 
the  cost.  You  must  ask:  ''  What  will  it  profit  a  man, 
if  he  gain  the  whole  w^orld  and  lose  his  soul?" 
If  temptations  assail,  and  worldly  influences  and  avo- 


THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  67 

cations  seem  to  charge  you  to  hold  your  peace,  you 
must  cry  the  more  a  great  deal :  "  Jesus,  thou  son  of 
David,  have  mercy  on  me."  If  you  find  the  subject 
of  your  eternal  interests  easily  sliding  away  from 
your  mind,  every  day  displaced  by  worldly  things, 
you  must  rush  away  from  them  to  your  retirement 
and  read  the  word  of  God,  and  ponder  the  darkness 
and  guilt  and  wretchedness  of  your  lost  estate,  and 
beg  of  your  Saviour  to  deliver  you  from  such  insensi- 
bility. You  must  think  of  Christ  as  passing  by,  in 
these  precious  moments  of  trial,  moments  which  will 
decide  your  eternal  state.  You  must  resist  all  diverting 
influences,  as  the  voice  of  a  senseless  throng  charging 
you  to  hold  your  peace,  and  you  must  so  much  the 
more  a  great  deal  cry  to  Christ  for  help  on  account 
of  the  power  of  such  temptations. 

Believe  me,  my  friends,  there  is  no  other  way  for 
you  to  enter  the  kingdom  than  by  very  great  earnest- 
ness and  perseverance.  Bunyan,in  his  divine  allegory, 
represents  the  man  that  would  enter  into  the  spiritual 
kingdom  of  Christ,  as  stopping  his  ears,  and  running, 
that  he  might  not  be  diverted  from  his  course.  And 
our  Saviour  says :  *'  Strive  to  enter  into  the  difficult 
gate."  In  the  original  it  is  aycovtlao^f,  agonize  to 
enter  the  strait  gate.  The  difficulty  is  set  forth  by 
two  expressions.  The  word  strait  here  is  used  in 
the  sense  of  narrow,  or  straitness,  as  when  it  is  said 
by  the  sons  of  the  Prophets  to  Elisha,  "  the  place  where 
we  dwell  is  too  strait  for  us;"  and  the  word  agonize 
is  borrowed  from  the  struggle  of  contending  armies, 


68  SERMON  III. 

and  the  contest  of  the  Grecian  games.  You  must 
agonize,  then,  for  an  entrance  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  ''  The  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence, 
and  the  violent  take  it  bj  force."  Not  one  lost  sinner 
shall  find  favor  with  Christ,  who  does  not  evince,  by 
his  earnest  importunity  and  perseverance,  that  he 
prizes  that  favor  above  all  things.  "  Except  a  man 
forsake  all  that  he  hath  (saith  the  Saviour)  he  can- 
nut  be  my  disciple." 

IV.  Finally^  the  hind  of  jjlea  with  which  the  sub- 
ject of  this  narrative  approached  the  Saviour  was 
such  as  became  a  guilty  and  helpless  sinner.  He 
asked  for  mercy.  He  complained  not  of  his  sufferings, 
as  if  undeserved.  He  pretended  not  to  the  least 
claim  upon  the  Saviour.  He  pleaded  no  services  ren- 
dered to  God ;  no  good  intentions  in  the  past,  no 
promises  of  amendment  for  the  future,  as  reasons  for 
granting  his  request.  On  the  contrary,  his  sad  con- 
dition and  the  compassion  of  Christ  were  his  only 
plea.  This  is  the  only  plea  by  which  any  soul  of 
our  lost  race  can  successfully  approach  the  Saviour. 
*'  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,"  is  substantially 
the  only  prayer  that  can  avail  for  the  relief  of  your 
necessities.  "  Jesus,  thou  son  of  David,  have  mercy 
on  me,"  becomes  every  sinner  of  our  lost  race,  as 
well  as  it  became  the  poor  blind  man  that  sat  by  the 
way-side  and  begged. 

This  short  period  of  trial  may  be  regarded  as  the 
period  in  which  Christ  is  passing  by.     If  you  do  not 


THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  69 

see  clearly  your  own  state,  and  the  passing  Saviour 
and  his  train,  yet,  do  you  not  perceive,  as  if  with  the 
less  vivid  sense  of  hearing,  the  passing  of  a  multitude? 
Listen  ;  it  is  the  tramp  of  a  thousand  millions  pass- 
ing on  to  the  judgment.  There  is  a  confused  murmur 
of  voices.  Some  are  conversing  and  laughing  in 
thoughtless  mirth.  Some  are  bewailing  the  loss  of 
their  first-born  and  their  loved  companions.  Some 
are  murmuring  against  God's  providential  dealings  in 
taking  away  their  estates.  One  group  is  scoffing  at 
the  religion  of  Christ,  and  profaning  his  name ;  an- 
other large  company  are  chanting  impure  songs  to 
heathen  deities.  Here  are  Christian  worshippers  sing- 
ing the  praises  of  God  ;  there  is  a  band  of  youthful 
converts  praying,  and  asking,  with  the  converted  Saul, 
"Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  Here  are 
preachers  of  the  everlasting  gospel,  endeavoring  to 
make  their  message  heard  amid  the  noisy  throng  by 
lifting  up  their  voices  like  a  trumpet :  "  Ho  !  every 
one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that 
hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy  and  eat  ;  yea,  buy 
wine  and  milk,  without  money  and  without  price." 
The  Saviour  is  moving  on  with  his  people.  The 
Lord  their  God  is  with  them,  and  the  shout  of  a  king 
is  among  them.  Ask  you,  poor  blind  sinner,  what 
meaneth  this?  I  tell  you,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth 
by.  Now  call  upon  him.  Sit  not  idly  there  begging 
a  poor  pittance  of  comfort  from  this  cold  world.  If 
you  are  wretched,  your  very  miseries  will  move  him. 
If  you  are  guilty,  that  guilt  is  the  foundation  of  a 


70  SERMON  III. 

plea  for  mercy.  lie  has  saved  others.  He  has 
power  to  save  you.  He  has  never  been  known  to 
refuse  an  earnest  and  persevering  suppliant  for  his 
mercy.  Cry  to  him  alone  for  help.  Look  not  to 
your  "works,  to  your  amiable  feelings,  to  your  good 
intentions.  Look  to  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  which 
taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world."  Go  not  to  your 
Christian  friends  merely.  Rest  not  on  the  intention 
to  visit  your  pastor,  and  seek  his  instruction.  Go 
to  your  Saviour  himself,  the  friend  of  sinners.  Tell 
him  of  your  blindness ;  tell  him  of  your  guilt ;  tell 
him  of  that  strange  insensibility  which  has  fallen  like 
a  palsy  upon  your  spiritual  being. 

If  temptations  assail ;  if  like  an  insolent  mob 
they  charge  you  to  hold  your  peace,  then  cry  so 
much  the  more  a  great  deal,  "  Jesus,  thou  son  of 
David,  have  mercy  on  me."  Rush  away  from  teinp- 
tations.  Go  into  your  closet  and  shut  the  door  ;  yes, 
bolt  it,  bar  out  secular  cares,  and  pray  in  secret.  Be 
earnest.  Be  importunate.  Be  persevering.  Take 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  violence.  Beg  for  mercy 
alone.  That  is  the  plea  which  is  never  ineffectual. 
But,  oh  !  be  determined,  lest  you  lose  your  precious 
soul.  Cast  yourself,  in  your  helplessness  and  guilt, 
at  your  Saviour's  feet,  and  say  in  the  language  of  the 
hymn:  "  And  if  I  perish,  I  will  pray,  and  perish  only 
there."  But  then  you  shall  not  perish.  Then  the 
people  of  God  shall  have  reason  to  say  :  "  Be  of  good 
comfort  ;  rise,  he  calleth  thee."  Put  yourself  in  the 
place  of  that  poor  blind  beggar.     Ask,  may  I  not  be 


THE  IMPETRATION  OF  MERCY.  71 

as  bappj  as  lie  ?  Yes,  you  may.  You  may  apply 
the  whole  narrative  to  yourself,  by  adopting  as  your 
own  the  divine  hymn  of  Newton,  founded  on  this 
interesting  and  instructive  story. 

*'  Mercy,  oh,  thou  son  of  David, 
Thus  blind  Bartimeus  prayed  ; 
Others  by  thy  grace  are  saved, 
Now  to  me  afford  thine  aid. 

"  Many  for  his  crying  chid  him, 
But  he  called  the  louder  still ; 
Till  his  gracious  Saviour  bid  him, 
Come,  and  ask  me  what  you  will. 

**  Money  was  not  what  he  wanted. 
Though  by  begging  used  to  live ; 
But  he  asked,  and  Jesus  granted. 
Alms  which  none  but  he  could  give. 

*'  *  Lord,  remove  this  grievous  blindness. 
Turn  this  darkness  into  day  ;' 
Straight  he  saw,  and,  won  by  kindness, 
Followed  Jesus  in  the  way. 

"  Now,  methinks,  I  hear  him  praying. 
Publishing  to  all  around, 
'  Friends,  is  not  my  case  amazing. 
What  a  Saviour  I  have  found.' 

"0,  that  all  the  blind  but  knew  him, 
And  would  be  advised  by  me  ; 
Surely  they  would  hasten  to  him, 
lie  would  cause  them  all  to  see." 


SERMON    IV/'= 

THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP. 
And  when  he  had  said  tuis,  he  fell  asleep. — Acls  vii.  GO. 

The  history  of  our  race  is  so  ordered  by  an  all- 
"wise  Providence,  as  to  awaken  a  perpetual  interest. 
We  live  amid  changes.  We  have  scarcely  a  day  of 
unvarying  experience.  Those  changes  possess  the 
more  power  over  us  because  they  are  replete  with 
contrast.  If  the  morning  beams  brightly,  and  soft 
airs  breathe  around — ere  one  brief  day  is  past,  this 
scene  of  quiet  beauty  is  often  changed  to  a  raging 
tempest.  If  the  rising  sun  be  veiled  in  sackcloth,  and 
fierce  winds  howl  along  the  sky,  a  few  hours  may 
suflSce  to  paint  the  bow  upon  the  pile  of  sleeping 
vapor  and  to  cheer  us  with  a  fair  day. 

The  organized  substances  around  us  suggest  con- 
tinually contrasts  of  an  equally  striking  character. 
By  the  side  of  playful  infancy,  we  meet  decrepid  age. 

*  Preached  on  tlic  occasion  of  the  death  of.Mr.  Bennington 
Gill. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  73 

The  flexible  sapling  grows  near  the  sturdy  oak.  The 
smooth  pebble  lies  close  by  the  granite  cliiF.  The 
tiniest  animals  walk  beside  the  huge  elephant,  and 
the  little  minnows  surround  the  monsters  of  the  deep. 
There  is  a  similar  contrast  among  the  mental  and 
moral  qualities  of  men.  Pure  taste  is  found  in  im- 
mediate proximity  with  vulgar  coarseness.  Ethereal 
genius  appears  beside  a  plodding  dulness.  So,  also, 
are  kindly  sentiments  contrasted  with  savage  ferocity, 
and  the  violence  of  sin  with  the  attractive  gentleness 
of  virtue.  Such  a  contrast  lends  a  peculiar  sweet- 
ness to  the  closing  scene  in  the  life  of  Stephen. 

When  you  have  contemplated  the  violence  and  rage 
of  his  enemies,  when  you  have  seen  them  stopping 
their  ears,  shouting  with  a  loud  voice  and  rushing  on 
him  with  one  accord,  hurling  their  missiles  and  impre- 
cations upon  his  innocent  head,  you  are  prepared  to 
appreciate  the  vivid  contrast  in  the  spirit  and  beha- 
vior of  the  first  Christian  martyr.  While  they  fasten 
their  eyes  upon  the  object  of  their  hate  with  fierce 
aspect,  he  is  calmly  looking  up  to  heaven,  beholding 
the  glory  of  God,  and  Jesus  standing  on  the  right 
hand  of  God.  While  they  are  rushing  forward,  with 
murderous  purpose,  he  is  meekly  kneeling  and  wor- 
shipping his  Maker.  While  they  are  breaking  forth 
in  violent  invective,  he  is  praying,  "Lord,  lay  not 
this  sin  to  their  charge."  In  short,  while  the  restless- 
ness and  violence  of  a  sinful  temper  waken  our  ab- 
horrence, we  are  prepared  to  discover  an  inimitable 
■7 


74  SERMON  IV. 

beauty  in  the  inspired  description  of  the  martyr  when 
it  is  said,  "lie  fell  asleep." 

I  am  led  to  invite  your  attention  to  this  text,  by 
the  most  solemn  and  afflicting  event  which  has  occur- 
red in  relation  to  this  church  since  its  organization. 
One  of  its  original  twenty-six  members  has  been  re- 
moved by  death.  I  do  not  consider  myself  called 
upon  to  deliver  funeral  discourses  whenever  members 
of  the  church  shall  decease.  Such  a  practice  is 
adapted  to  create  the  impression  that  a  service  of  this 
nature  is  demanded  by  the  respect  due  to  the  dead, 
and  that  a  want  of  sympathy  with  bereaved  mourners 
would  always  be  implied  in  neglecting  it.  An  un- 
reasonable restraint,  therefore,  would  be  placed  upon 
a  pastor  in  instructing  his  charge,  if  it  should  come  to 
be  considered  an  indispensable  duty  to  deliver  a  fune- 
ral discourse  whenever  an  esteemed  Christian  might 
be  called  away  to  his  final  rest.  But,  in  this  instance, 
there  are,  in  my  view,  peculiar  reasons  for  endeavor- 
ing to  make  a  practical  use  of  the  providence  of  God. 

Mr.  Gill  was  one  of  the  founders  of  this  church,  a 
member  of  the  respected  Board  of  Trustees,  a  teacher 
in  the  Sabbath-school,  and  a  man  whose  presence  and 
voice  in  the  devotional  meetings  of  the  church  con- 
tinually aided  in  supplying  with  oil  the  lamp  upon  our 
altars.  He  was  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  family, 
and  exercised  a  paternal  influence  over  an  interesting 
circle  of  youthful  females  during  the  most  important 
period  of  their  education.  In  addition  to  these  cir- 
cumstances,   his   years    and    maturity    of    Christian 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  75 

character,  and  his  peaceful  and  sudden  exit,  render 
this  a  highly  favorable  period  for  contemplating 

THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLINa  ASLEEP. 

From  the  obvious  analogies  that  exist  between  these 
two  states,  it  has  been  common,  wherever  the  doctrine 
of  immortality  has  been  received,  to  speak  of  death 
as  a  sleep.  The  ancient  patriarchs  are  represented, 
in  sacred  history,  as  having  successively  fallen  asleep 
and  been  gathered  to  their  fathers. 

The  death  of  a  good  man  is  analogous  to  sleep  in 
the  willingness  with  which  he  yields  to  it.  We  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  a  Christian  mind  in  the  warm 
pursuit  of  those  objects  which  awaken  holy  enterprise 
ever  really  courts  death.  It  is  only  when  depressed 
and  weary,  or  when  sinking  under  diseased  sensibili- 
ties, or  when  he  has  received  an  intimation  from  God 
that  he  will  call  him  hence,  that  the  Christian  looks  for- 
ward to  death  as  an  object  of  immediate  desire.  Yet, 
the  Christian  is  willing  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ. 
That  is  to  say,  he  is  willing  in  the  sense  in  which  an 
industrious  man  is  willing  to  sink  down  in  natural 
sleep.  The  man  of  enterprise,  in  the  earnest  prose- 
cution of  his  proper  calling,  does  not  desire  in  the 
early  morning,  or  even  late  in  the  afternoon,  abruptly 
to  desist  from  his  unfinished  labor,  and  to  be  overcome 
with  slumber.  But  he  looks  forward  to  the  hour  of 
retirement  and  repose,  and  feels  not  a  little  cheered 
in  his  toil  by  the  hope  of  rest.     As  the  labors  of  the 


7G  SERMON  IV. 

(lay  draw  near  to  a  close,  and  as  tlie  purposes  of 
watchful  care  have  been  mainly  accomplished,  the 
approach  of  drowsy  feelings  is  not  unwelcome.  So 
we  have  seen  an  aged  servant  of  God,  after  having 
*' accomplished,"  according  to  the  language  of  the 
patriarch,  "  as  an  hireling  his  day"  retiring  to  his 
final  rest  with  a  calm  satisfaction.  He  has  educated 
his  children.  He  has  blest  his  generation.  He  has 
prepared  the  account  of  his  stewardship.  He  has  fin- 
ished his  work.  To  him  the  approach  of  death,  with 
its  benumbing  slumbers,  is  not  unwelcome.  It  is 
pleasant  to  fall  asleep. 

The  willina^ness  of  the  Christian  to  enter  on  his 
final  rest,  extends  further  than  we  have  now  de- 
scribed. He  is  willing  to  retire  before  all  the  labor 
which  he  had  sought  to  accomplish  could  be  achieved. 
One  who  is  in  the  most  earnest  pursuit  of  a  secular 
end  may  strongly  desire  to  be  able  to  hold  out 
through  the  whole  day  in  the  severest  toil,  but  if  he 
find  a  weariness  coming  over  him,  and  if  a  heavy 
lethargy  pervade  his  frame,  he  will  yield  to  the 
necessities  of  tired  nature,  and  give  himself  up  wil- 
lingly to  sleep.  So  a  Christian,  when  he  finds  in  him- 
self the  indications  of  the  approach  of  his  final  rest, 
when,  in  an  unexpected  hour,  the  intimation  is  given 
from  his  Master  that  the  period  of  rest  is  approach- 
ing, though  it  may  require  a  short  interval  to  detach 
his  thoughts  from  the  objects  and  employments  that 
immediately  surround  him,  though  some  reflection 
may  be  needful  to  compose  his  mind,  he  is  ready. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  77 

He  may  say  to  his  friends,  it  is  sudden,  it  is  unex- 
pected.      I  had  thought   it  probable  that  I  might 
spend  a  few  more  years  with  you,  but  it  is  all  right. 
All  you  can  do  is  to  pray  for  me.     I  have  not  neg- 
lected a  preparation  for  this  hour.     Jesus  Christ  is 
my  only  trust.     I  rest  on  the  mercy  of  God,  in  the 
atoning  sacrifice  of  my  Saviour.     Then,  he  may  turn 
his  regards  for  a  moment  to   the  interests  and   the 
friends  whom  he  is  about  to  leave,  and  in  few  words 
make  all  needful  arrangements,  and  leave  farewell 
messages  of  love  and  spiritual  counsel.     This  work 
finished,  he  can  surrender  his  mind  more  completely 
to  the  things  of  another  world.     He  now  anticipates 
meeting  dear  relations  and  friends  that  have  long  since 
fallen   asleep.     The   sweet  "fields  of  living  green," 
and  the  pure  river  of  the  water  of  life  present  them- 
selves to  his  quickened  faith.     The  bright  forms   of 
angels  and  saints  pass  before  him.     He  sees,  as  did 
the  dying  martyr,  heaven  opened,  and  Jesus  standing 
on  the  right  hand  of  God.     He  is  more  than  willing 
to   depart ;    he   begins   to  feel  the   sentiments   that 
glowed  in  the  breast  of  John,  when  he  said,  "  Come, 
Lord  Jesus,  come   quickly."       He   peacefully  falls 
asleep. 

One  of  the  things  which  prepares  the  Christian  to 
depart  with  such  readiness,  is  an  acquaintance  with 
the  fact  that  he  is  about  to  escape  from  great  evils. 
The  contrast  between  earth  and  heaven  must  be  very 
great  and  truly  delightful.  A  languid  and  diseased 
body  is  laid  aside  for  a  purely  spiritual  and  health- 


78  SERMON  IV. 

ful  state.  Degrading  propensities  and  sin  arc  ex- 
changed for  pure  desires,  and  unwearied  and  uninter- 
rupted holiness.  The  conflict  with  temptation  gives 
place  to  the  sweet  constraints  of  heavenly  influences. 
Death  is  the  very  last  conflict  that  a  Christian  shall 
he  called  on  to  endure,  in  the  whole  eternity  of  his 
being. 

How  delightful  must  have  been  the  escape  of  Ste- 
phen from  the  power  of  all  his  foes.  His  persecu- 
tors fancied  that  they  were  effecting  his  ruin,  yet 
they  were  only  the  instruments  of  translating  him  at 
once  into  the  New  Jerusalem.  Before,  he  was  like 
the  helpless  mariner,  when  cast  from  his  bark  upon 
the  angry  ocean.  His  enemies  were  as  mighty  bil- 
lows, rolling  on  with  tempestuous  rage.  Their  moun- 
tain height,  and  dark  forms  and  menacing  roar  por- 
tend destruction,  but  the  excess  of  their  anger  only 
contributes  to  his  safety.  He  is  buoyed  up  by  their 
swell,  and  carried  clear  over  the  rocky  cliffs  and  left 
in  a  beautiful  garden.  He  is  safe  forever  from  their 
assaults.  Though  Christians,  generally,  at  the  pre- 
sent time,  are  not  called  on  to  endure  such  a  conflict 
in  the  last  hour,  yet  their  sins,  the  temptations  of 
worldly  cares,  and  the  assaults  of  their  great  adver- 
sary can  do  much  to  break  their  peace.  But  death 
completes  all  their  warfare.  This  one  conflict  ends 
in  eternal  peace.  Though  the  last  appeal  made  to  your 
senses  as  a  spectator  might  be  a  distorted  visage  and 
a  deep  groan,  yet,  to  the  vision  and  the  hearing  of 
faith,  a  bright  immortal  spirit  is  disclosed,  and  an  as- 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  79 

cending  shout  is  heard  of  victory,  victory,  victory  ! 
Long  before  the  arrival  of  such  a  crisis  the  mature 
Christian  has  often  reflected  on  the  deliverances 
which  death  shall  bring,  and  this  has  prepared  him  to 
welcome  the  hour  of  final  discharge. 

But  the  positive  anticipations  of  his  future  state 
have  created  real  yearnings  for  another  world. 
Whatever  the  sensual  and  worldly  mind  may  think 
of  it,  the  spiritual  believer  in  Christ  has  thought 
much  of  the  nature  of  his  heavenly  inheritance. 
While  it  seemed  distant,  while  he  did  not  regard  the 
time  of  his  departure  as  likely  to  arrive  till  seve- 
ral more  years  should  elapse,  he  was  scarcely  aware 
himself  of  the  strength  to  which  his  cherished  inter- 
est had  arisen.  As  one  residing  in  a  foreign  country 
may  feel  quite  content,  and  may  be  subject  to  very 
little  comparative  excitement  in  respect  to  his  return, 
yet,  when  the  day  of  embarkation  for  his  native  land 
has  come,  all  his  former  reflections  crowd  into  his 
mind,  and  he  is  himself  surprised  at  the  strength  of 
attachment  which  he  feels  for  the  place  of  his  desti- 
nation. The  institutions  of  his  country  never  seemed 
so  beneficent.  Its  mountains  and  valleys  and  streams 
never  appeared  so  beautiful.  The  family  mansion, 
and  the  dear  familiar  faces,  never  before  awakened 
such  a  home  affection.  So,  I  say,  the  Christian,  who 
has  long  regarded  himself  as  a  stranger  and  pilgrim 
on  the  earth,  and  who  has  been  looking  for  a  city 
which  hath  foundations,  whose  maker  and  builder  is 
God,  feels  a  fresh  and  greatly  augmented  delight  in 


80  SERMON  IV. 

contemplating  his  heavenly  inheritance  in  such  a  near 
prospect.  He  is  ready  to  say  in  the  poetic  language 
of  Tupper's  Proverbial  Philosophy  : — 

"  My  trust  is  strong  to  dwell  in  many  -worlds,  and 
cull  of  many  brethren  there,  sweet  knowledge  ever 
new.  I  yearn  for  realms  where  fancy  shall  be  filled 
and  the  ecstasies  of  freedom  shall  be  felt.  And  the 
soul  reign  gloriously,  risen  to  its  royal  destinies.  I 
look  to  recognize  again,  through  the  beautiful  mask 
of  their  perfection,  the  dear  familiar  faces  I  have 
somewhile  loved  on  earth.  I  long  to  talk  with  grate- 
ful tongue  of  storms  and  perils  past,  and  praise  the 
mighty  Pilot  that  hath  steered  us  through  the  rapids. 
He  shall  be  the  focus  of  it  all,  the  very  heart  of  glad- 
ness. My  soul  is  athirst  for  God,  the  God  who 
dwelt  in  man.  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King  ;  the  Sacri- 
fice, the  Substitute,  the  Saviour.  Rapture  of  the 
blessed  in  the  hunted  one  of  earth,  the  pardoner 
in  the  victim.  How  many  centuries  of  joy  concen- 
trate in  that  theme.  How  often  a  Methusalem  might 
count  his  thousand  years,  and  leave  it  unexhausted. 
And  lo !  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  with  all  its  gates,  one 
pearl,  that  pearl  of  countless  price,  the  door  by  which 
we  entered.  Come,  tread  the  golden  streets,  and  join 
that  glorious  throng,  the  happy  ones  of  heaven  and 
earth,  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand.  Hark,  they 
sing  that  song,  and  cast  their  crown  before  him. 
Their  souls  alight  with  love,  glory,  and  praise  and 
immortality!     Veil  thine  eyes;  no  son  of  time  may 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  81 

see  that  holy  vision.     And  even  the  seraph  at  thy 
side  hath  covered  his  face  with  his  wings." 

If  these  anticipations  are  interrupted  by  looking 
back  upon  the  church,  and  upon  dear  Christian 
friends,  it  is  but  for  a  moment.  The  thought  again 
recurs  that  the  time  is  short,  that  very  soon  dear 
friends  will  follow,  and  that  they  will  be  reunited  in 
a  happier  sphere,  never  more  to  be  separated.  Why 
should  not  the  Christian  die  calmly  ?  Why  should 
not  his  decease  be  analogous  to  his  sinking  sweetly 
into  sleep  ? 

"  How  blest  the  righteous  when  they  die ; 
When  holy  souls  retire  to  rest, 
How  mildly  beams  the  closing  eye, 
How  gently  heaves  the  expiring  breast. 

*'  So  fades  a  summer  cloud  away, 

So  sinks  the  gale  when  storms  are  o'er, 
So  gently  shuts  the  eye  of  day, 
So  dies  a  wave  along  the  shore.'^ 

How  inestimable  the  privilege  of  meeting  death  in 
such  a  state.  I  am  sure  that  any  one  of  you  that 
should  seriously  reflect  on  it,  would  give  more  to  be 
sure  of  such  a  death-bed  than  you  would  give  for  all 
the- treasures  and  honors  and  worldly  enjoyments  that 
earth  can  bestow.  What  would  be  the  richest  diadem 
ever  worn  in  this  world  compared  with  beholding  by 
a  strong  faith  a  crown  of  glory  laid  up  in  heaven  for 
you  ?  What  would  be  the  company  of  princes  and 
their  courts,  all  proffering  you  their  highest  regards, 
compared  with  a  discovery,  from  the  death-bed,  of  the 


82  SERMON  IV. 

angels   that   Lore    Lazarus   to    Abraham's   bosom  ? 
What  are  the  robes  and  costly  decorations  that  gold 
and  silver  can  procure,  compared  with  the  pure  white 
robe  of  holiness,  the  wedding  garment  ?     What  are 
the  music  and  festive  conversations  of  the  most  bril- 
liant  circles  in  the  saloons    of  pleasure,  compared 
with  the  death-bed  praises  and  triumphs  of  a  dying 
believer?     Tell  me,  gay  and  thoughtless  one,  could 
you  deliberately  prefer  all  earthly  good  to  one  happy 
last  hour  ?     If  you  could  make  it  sure,  by  a  formal 
written  contract  with  Christ,  that  you  should  have  all 
the  riches  and  honors  and  pleasures  of  earth  for  a 
hundred   years,  on  condition  that  you   should   not 
have  a   happy  Christian  death-bed,  would  you  put 
your  name    to   such  a  contract?     But  just  such  a 
happy  death,  such  a  falling  asleep  in  Christ,  can  be 
secured.     I  do  not  deny,  indeed,  that,  if  you  are  a 
Christian,  you  may  die  in  an  unconscious  state.     Pos- 
sibly in  an  hour  of  mental  derangement,  or  by  a  sud- 
den stroke,  you  may  be  removed  so  unconsciously 
that  you  shall  enter  upon  the  heavenly  state  by  a 
surprise  as  great  as  it  would  have  been  if  you  had 
found  yourself  among  the  blest  when  you  awoke  in 
your  chamber  this   morning.      Still,  I   say,  such  a 
quiet,  happy  death-bed,  or  what  may  be  even  better, 
a  translation  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  without  any 
conscious  struggle  with  the  king  of  terrors,  may  be 
secured  to  you. 

Christianity  has  often  come  with  its  comforts  in  the 
last  hour,  where  the  most  fearful  apprehensions  had 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  83 

been  previously  entertained.  It  has  promised  much. 
"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  said  its  divine 
Founder:  "if  a  man  believe  in  me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live  again."  But  Christianity  has 
not  barely  made  rich  promises,  it  has  performed  even 
more  than  its  promises.  It  has  sustained  those  who 
by  diligence  have  acquired  a  strong  faith  not  only, 
but  it  has  also  opened  the  portals  of  immortality  to 
the  dying  eyes  of  those  who  have  just  embraced  its 
provisions.  Old  King  Manassah,  laden  with  crimes, 
found  pardon  and  sanctification,  and  went  to  dwell 
with  God.  The  dying  thief  turned  his  regards  to  the 
Lamb  of  God,  which  taketli  away  the  sin  of  the 
world,  and  received  assurance  that  he  should  that 
day  enter  the  heavenly  Paradise.  Many  a  poor 
sinner  has  found  the  grace  of  Christ  to  transcend,  by 
far,  all  the  conceptions  which  he  had  entertained  of 
his  promises.  But  in  no  case  has  he  fallen  short  of 
them.  Every  confiding  disciple  that  has  heeded  the 
warning  to  watch  and  pray  lest  he  fall  into  tempta- 
tion, has  neither  watched  nor  prayed  in  vain.  Every 
one  that  has  given  all  diligence  to  make  his  calling 
and  election  sure,  has  been  able  to  say,  with  Paul,  ''  I 
know  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that 
he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed  to  him 
against  that  day." 

Yet  a  peaceful  death  ought  not  to  be  expected 
without  a  prompt  and  diligent  and  long-continued 
attention  to  the  subject.  The  grace  of  the  gospel  is 
not  so  dispensed  as  to  encourage  delay  and  foster  an 


84  SERMON  IV. 

indolent  spirit.  It  is  by  constant  culture  that  piety 
grows  to  a  mature  state,  and  maturity  of  Christian 
character  is  the  only  means  of  securing  for  every 
one  a  perfectly  satisfactory  assurance.  If  you  begin 
to-day,  then,  to  act  with  decision  and  persevering  in- 
dustry, you  will  find  the  labor  sufficiently  difficult,  to 
acquire  that  symmetry  of  character  which  shall  be 
demonstrably  the  legitimate  fruit  of  the  gospel.  It 
is  only  by  a  toilful  and  long-continued  effort  that  a 
selfish  habit  can  be  made  to  give  place  to  one  of  phi- 
lanthropy and  benevolence.  It  is  no  small  labor  to 
displace  all  irascible  tempers  by  the  spirit  of  meek- 
ness. Much  discipline  is  demanded  to  induce  the 
soul  to  wear  as  its  every-day  dress  the  garment  of 
humility.  Time  is  required  to  store  the  mind  with 
those  thoughts,  and  to  inspire  the  heart  with  those 
sentiments,  which  shall  lead  the  soul  to  have  its  con- 
versation in  heaven.  You  need  many  calls  and 
admonitions,  and  much  spiritual  instruction  in  the 
sanctuary,  connected  with  a  serious  purpose  on  your 
part  to  improve  them.  You  require  the  sympathy 
and  counsel  and  prayers  of  experienced  Christians. 
You  need  the  influence  of  solemn  and  tender  sacra- 
mental seasons;  the  discipline  of  the  Divine  provi- 
dence in  chastisement  and  mercy,  and  the  plentiful 
eifusions  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  All  these  privileges,  long 
enjoyed  and  properly  improved,  may  render  it  com- 
paratively certain  that  you  shall  enjoy  a  peaceful  and 
happy  death. 

Among  the  means  for  inducing  you  to  aim  at  such 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  85 

a  result,  and  for  aiding  you  in  securing  it,  no  one  is 
more  effective  than  the  example  of  one  who  has  suc- 
cessfully sought  this  very  end.  When  such  a  living 
example  has  been  removed,  therefore,  an  irreparable 
loss  is  experienced.  Those  that  sustain  peculiar  re- 
lations to  such  a  removed  example,  as  in  the  case 
•which  we  contemplate  to-day,  are  suffering  a  bereave- 
ment more  sad  than  they  themselves  can  imagine.  A 
mourning  family,  though  wounded  so  deeply,  and 
suffering  such  a  sudden  interruption  in  a  large  part 
of  their  enjoyment,  even  they  can  scarcely  appreciate 
the  extent  of  their  loss.  How,  then,  shall  those  young 
females  in  the  family  and  in  the  Sunday-school  class 
appreciate  it.  Their  minds  are  less  mature.  Their 
conceptions  of  the  worth  of  a  moral  influence  which 
they  have  susceptibility  enough  to  feel,  are  limited. 
They  will  feel  it  keenly.  The  youthful  circle  will 
pour  forth  showers  of  tears  when  they  see  the  vacant 
place  at  the  table,  and  are  reminded  that  those  simple 
strains  and  gentle  tones  shall  never  greet  their  ears 
again  in  the  room  where  the  family  devotions  were 
offered  up. 

The  orphan  class  in  the  Sabbath-school,  where 
shall  they  find  another  such  a  teacher?  a  teacher  who 
shall  unite  to  such  a  degree  the  wisdom  of  a  father 
with  the  familiarity  of  a  companion?  I  am  not  con- 
cerned lest  they  should  not  feel  sufficiently ;  but  their 
sobs  and  tears  are  no  indication  of  their  having  ap- 
preciated their  real  loss.  And  who  shall  supply  the 
place  in  the  church,  or  estimate  our  loss  ?  You  will 
8 


86  SERMON  IV. 

pardon  me,  my  brethren,  if  I  say  to  you,  I  am  afraid 
that  not  one  of  you  Avill  do  it.  I  am  afraid  I  do  not 
myself  appreciate  it.  Many  of  the  best  religious 
influences  are  quiet  in  proportion  as  they  are  power- 
ful, so  that  they  are  but  slightly  observed.  When  a 
Christian's  influence  is  not  connected  with  official  sta- 
tion, when  he  is  not  visibly  leading  others  in  some 
great  moral  enterprise,  he  may  be  exerting  the  most 
benign  influence,  in  such  a  way  that  it  will  scarcely 
attract  attention  till  it  ceases.  Such  a  Christian's 
usefulness  is  like  a  quiet  stream  that  swells  and  over- 
flows its  banks.  Its  refreshing  irrigations  steal  away 
to  a  great  distance,  secretly  imparting  verdure  and 
bloom  to  a  thousand  plants  that  had  else  never  swelled 
from  their  germs.  Multitudes  who  admire  the  beauty 
of  the  cascade,  and  are  astonished  at  the  power  of 
the  useless  or  even  harmful  torrent,  never  discover  the 
utility  of  that  quiet  stream  till  its  waters  are  dried 
up  and  the  fertility  of  its  banks  is  disappearing. 
Would  God,  my  brethren,  that  we  might  all  see 
enough  of  our  loss  to  lead  us  to  emulate  the  example 
of  doing  good  always  in  a  blameless  way.  I  am  aware 
that  variety  in  gifts  and  in  the  cast  of  Christian 
character  is  demanded  by  the  interests  of  the  church. 
But  no  character  is  more  useful,  though  by  that 
means  it  may  elicit  more  attention,  for  its  moral  obli- 
quities. The  headlong  rashness  of  a  Peter  may 
impart  a  sort  of  pungent  interest  to  his  character  as 
a  vigorous  reformer.  The  irascibility  of  Paul  and 
Barnabas  when  they  quarrelled  about  taking  John  and 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  87 

Mark  as  the  companion  of  their  travels,  did  not  it  is 
true  destroy  their  usefulness,  but  it  marred  it.  The 
unoffending,  blameless  John  was  a  better  character. 
Oh,  that  God  would  impart  to  his  church  grace  to 
honor  and  emulate  those  who  are  meek  and  gentle, 
and  long-suffering  and  blameless.  He  has  com- 
mended such  in  his  word :  "  Blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers." "  God  will  beautify  the  meek  with  salva- 
tion." 

This  solemn  and  unexpected  bereavement  makes  a 
most  affecting  appeal  to  us  all.  Let  me  say  to  all 
those  young  female  members  of  the  family  of  our 
friend  who  heard  his  voice  daily  in  prayer,  and 
those  who  were  under  his  teaching  in  the  Sunday- 
school,  God  has  spoken  to  you,  in  this  act  of  his 
providence,  with  an  earnestness  and  solemnity  that  is 
quite  uncommon.  I  know  how  quickly  most  impres- 
sions pass  from  your  young  and  susceptible  hearts. 
But  an  impression  has  now  been  made  that  will,  I 
trust,  never  be  wholly  effaced.  You  will  remember 
not  merely  that  a  great  shock  was  produced  by  such 
a  sudden  removal  of  one  you  so  dearly  loved,  but, 
you  will  remember  (whatever  effect  subsequent  defec- 
tive examples  of  Christians  may  produce  on  your 
mind),  that  you  once  knew  one  in  whom  the  Christian 
religion  was  exemplified  as  everything  that  is  lovely 
and  amiable.  You  will  remember  that  you  have 
seen  piety  united  with  such  native  qualities  as  did 
not  prevent  a  clear  disclosure  of  its  beauties.  You 
will  not  forget  the  nature  of  true  religion,  as  you 


88  SERMON  IV. 

could  not  forget  the  verdure  and  bloom  and  fragrance 
of  a  plant  that  should  really  excel  every  other  plant 
in  the  vegetable  world,  if  you  had  seen  one  specimen 
of  it  growing  in  a  genial  soil  and  developing  itself 
in  full  proportions.  What  use  will  you  make  of  this 
impression?  I  charge  you,  as  you  fear  God,  and 
would  hope  to  meet  that  friend  in  heaven,  now 
commence,  this  very  hour,  seeking  the  grace  of 
Christ.  Go  to  your  Christian  parents,  to  your  pious 
teachers,  to  your  pastor,  for  that  counsel  of  which  you 
have  been  suddenly  and  forever  deprived.  Go  to  your 
Saviour,  as  he  has  counselled  you,  whose  lips  are 
sealed,  whose  voice  is  hushed,  whose  tongue  is  fettered 
in  death.  Go  now,  too.  Take  up  a  course  of  earnest 
inquiry  and  fervent  prayer,  lest  you  never  have  from 
God  another  call  of  such  tender  solemnity  and  power. 
Sabbath-school  teachers,  this  event  speaks  a 
peculiar  language  to  you.  One  of  your  fellow- 
laborers  has  fallen  asleep.  He  was  the  oldest  of 
your  number,  yet  he  was  obedient  to  your  arrange- 
ments as  any  child.  There  were  none  among  you 
that  he  did  not  love,  and  none  that  did  not  love  him, 
that  knew  him.  His  heart  was  with  you  in  this  work. 
His  influence  was  of  such  a  quiet  and  gentle  kind, 
that  you  never  could  appreciate  it  till  it  was  removed. 
The  vacant  seat  in  that  room,  I  think  I  may  say 
without  any  apprehension  of  your  thinking  otherwise, 
created  a  deeper  sensation  than  any  other  vacancy 
created  by  an  absent  teacher  could  have  done.  The 
voice  of  that  beloved  fellow-teacher  you  will  hear  no 


THE  CHKISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  89 

more.  His  sudden  departure  bids  you  to  work  -while 
the  day  lasts.  This  is  the  second  bereavement  of  the 
kind  since  the  organization  of  this  church.  Both 
were  remarkably  intelligent,  remarkably  blameless, 
and  remarkably  beloved;  both  possessed  the  appear- 
ance of  remarkable  health,  and  both  were  taken  away 
with  a  suddenness  which  created  the  most  surprising 
shock  to  your  feelings.  What,  my  beloved  friends, 
do  these  providences  teach  you  ?  Do  they  not  bid 
you  to  do  what  you  have  to  do  quickly?  Do  they 
not  admonish  those  who  have  the  best  prospect  of 
continuance  in  life  to  be  always  ready  for  their  de- 
parture ? 

A  vacancy  is  created  in  our  board  of  trustees. 
The  record  of  the  manner  in  which  that  vacancy 
occurred  will  not  be  made  without  deep  emotion. 
Will  it  not  also  be  thought  upon  with  a  solemn  self- 
application,  by  every  one  of  them,  that  God  is  ad- 
monishing the  associates  of  this  removed  member  to 
be  also  ready?  Will  not  that  part  of  the  church 
which  may  be  emphatically  termed  the  praying  band, 
those  who  aim  to  be  always  in  their  place  in  the 
meeting  for  prayer,  will  not  they  especially  endeavor 
to  improve  by  this  solemn  providence?  Will  none  of 
those  who  have  comparatively  neglected  this  duty, 
come  forward  and  fill  the  vacant  place?  Would  God 
that  many  new  voices  might  be  heard  in  our  social 
devotions  on  account  of  this  bereavement.  In  fine, 
let  all  be  admonished  to  act  with  promptness  in  regard 
to   their   spiritual   interests.     Two  weeks   ago,  this 

8* 


90  SERMON  IV. 

morning,  there  sat  in  yonder  gallery,  one  of  the  stated 
worshippers  in  this  sanctuary,  in  the  care  of  the 
Sabbath-school  children.  Probably  not  one  person 
within  the  sound  of  my  voice  has  a  more  remarkable 
glow  of  health.  Ilis  countenance  beamed  with  that 
peculiar  brightness  which  is  produced  by  the  union 
of  fine  physical  health,  and  intelligence  and  an  habi- 
tual cheerfulness.  On  the  last  Monday  morning,  even 
though  indisposed,  not  the  least  apprehension  existed, 
either  in  his  own  mind  or  that  of  his  physician  and 
friends.  Yet  early  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day 
he  resigned  his  spirit  to  God  who  gave  it.  The  call 
is  as  distinct  as  though  a  voice  from  heaven  had 
uttered  it:  "  Be  ye  also  ready,  for  in  such  an  hour  as 
ye  think  not  the  Son  of  Man  cometh."  Yes,  the 
Son  of  Man  cometh;  he  is  on  his  way  to  arrest  your 
earthly  career,  and  bring  you  to  his  bar.  If  your 
ears  were  a  little  more  opened,  you  might  perhaps 
hear  his  chariot  wheels.  If  your  vision  were  cleared 
you  might  see  his  bright  train,  and  hear  the  distinct 
utterance:  "  Behold,  I  come  quickly,  and  my  reward  is 
with  me."  If  you  are  now  unprepared  for  the  change, 
let  me  implore  you  to  make  no  delay.  Look  at  your 
sins,  your  worldliness,  your  unbelief,  your  cold  rejec- 
tions, and  your  perpetual  neglects  of  your  Saviour. 
Let  conscience  do  its  office,  and  its  upbraiding  voice 
be  heard,  "What .meanest  thou,  0  sinful  soul,  to 
slumber  in  sin?" — "Awake,  thou  that  sleepest,  and 
rise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light." 
If  you  are  now  unprepared,  and  the  ordinary  minis- 


THE  CHRISTIAN  FALLING  ASLEEP.  91 

trations  of  the  gospel  have  to  this  hour  failed  to  rouse 
you,  let  the  vacant  seat  in  the  sanctuary  make  its  ap- 
peal. Let  the  quiet  death-bed  scene  of  one  whose 
face  so  lately  beamed  with  health  lead  you  to  contem- 
plate the  difference  between  the  righteous  and  the 
wicked.  Catch  the  vision  of  one  who  said:  "I  saw 
the  dwellings  of  the  blest.  They  glided  on,  hushing 
as  they  went.  Yet  further  under  the  sun,  at  the 
roots  of  purple  mountains,  I  noted  a  blaze  of  glory  as 
night-fires  on  northern  skies ;  and  I  heard  the  hum  of 
joy  as  it  were  a  sea  of  melody ;  and  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  were  millions  of  happy  creatures  basking 
in  the  golden  light;  and  I  knew  that  land  was  heaven. 
When  the  hill  whereon  I  stood  split  asunder,  and  a 
crater  yawned  at  my  feet,  black,  and  deep,  and  dread- 
ful, fenced  round  with  ragged  rocks ;  dimly  was  the 
darkness  lit  up  by  spires  of  distant  flame:  And  I  saw 
below,  a  moving  mass  of  life,  like  reptiles  bred  in 
corruption,  where  all  was  terrible  unrest,  and  shrieks, 
and  groans,  and  thunder!" 

Alas  !  poor  sinner,  when  wilt  tliou  be  wise  ?  Death 
calls.  He  will  soon  call  for  tliee^  either  as  an  angel 
of  peace,  or  as  a  grim  executioner  : — 

"His  time  there's  none  can  tell  ; 
He'll  in  a  moment  call  thee  hence, 
To  heaven  or  to  hell.'^ 


SERMON   V. 

CONCEALED  RELIGION. 

But  Peter  followed  iiim  afar  off,  unto  the  high-priest's 
palace,  and  went  in,  and  sat  with  the  servants,  to  see  the 
END. — Matthew  xxvi.  58. 

It  is  not  an  easy  thing  for  any  person  to  occupy, 
for  a  considerable  time  together,  a  position  between 
two  contending  parties.  If  both  parties  be  in  the 
wrong,  on  a  subject  in  which  you  feel  a  deep  interest, 
and  you  desire  to  maintain  a  strict  neutrality,  you 
will  find  it  difficult  to  do  so,  because  there  will  com- 
monly be  such  appeals  made  to  your  feelings  as  will 
destroy  the  balance  of  impartiality.  If,  however, 
moral  principles  be  clearly  involved,  moral  principles 
that  are  diametrically  opposite  to  one  another,  it  is 
impossible  to  maintain  neutral  ground,  with  respect 
to  them,  for  a  single  moment.  The  reason  is  obvious. 
There  is  no  neutral  ground  between  right  and  wrong. 
A  moral  being  always  occupies  either  a  right  or  a  wrong 
position  in  regard  to  a  moral  question  which  has  been 
pressed  upon  the  attention.     Yet  there  are  times  and 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  93 

crises  in  our  history  when  ahuost  every  one  is  tempted 
to  make  the  vain  endeavor  to  be  neutral. 

Amid  the  tragic  scenes  of  our  Saviour's  arrest  and 
trial,  and  execution,  occurred  many  and  various  de- 
velopments of  character.  In  the  first  alarm,  all  the 
disciples  forsook  their  Master,  and  fled.  The  pious 
females  who  had  been  warmly  attached  to  our 
Saviour's  ministry,  with  a  fortitude  characteristic  of 
their  sex  in  times  of  trial,  followed  him,  everywhere, 
as  open,  undisguised  friends,  and  stood  by  his  cross 
bewailing  his  mortal  agonies.  Two  of  the  disciples, 
Peter  and  John,  recovered  from  their  first  paroxysm 
of  alarm,  and  followed  with  anxious  solicitude  their 
captive  Master.  But  though  they  acted  together, 
in  this  respect,  they  were  in  widely  different  states  of 
mind,  states  tending  to  very  different  results.  John 
was  a  man  of  a  calm  and  sweet  spirit.  He  was  the 
disciple  whom  Jesus  loved.  A  tender  a3"ection  for 
Christ  led  him  to  follow  him  to  the  judgment-hall, 
and  to  Calvary.  He  attempted  no  concealment,  and, 
by  his  urbanity  and  his  gentleness,  and  his  acquaint- 
ance with  the  high-priest,  who  probably  knew  him  as 
an  amiable  man,  he  passed  on  unmolested,  a  pitying 
spectator  of  the  whole  scene.  Peter,  on  the  other  hand, 
though  a  sincere  friend  of  Christ,  was  a  bold,  rash  man, 
and  apt  to  engage  in  a  course  of  conduct  without  well 
considering  what  would  be  the  ultimate  consequences. 
In  his  earnestness,  he  resolved  that  he  would  not,  like 
others,  utterly  abandon  the  Saviour.  Yet  as  he  had 
cut  off"  the  servant's  ear,  and  made  himself  prominent 


94  SERMON  V. 

on  other  occasions,  he  saw  that  he  might  he  involved 
in  trouble  if  his  true  position  were  understood.  He 
determined,  therefore,  upon  attempting  to  be  prudent. 
He  will  not  jeopard  everything  for  Christ,  by  being 
found  too  near  to  his  sacred  person,  so  he  follows  him 
afar  off.  When  mingling  with  the  enemies  of  our 
Lord,  he  will  not  hazard  a  discovery  of  his  relation 
to  the  prisoner,  by  remaining  among  those  who  are 
active  and  prominent  in  the  awful  scene ;  so  he  sits 
down  with  an  air  of  affected  indifference,  with  the 
servants,  and  seems  to  be  employed  in  warming  him- 
self by  the  fire.  The  result  of  this  experiment  you 
all  know.  Peter  is  tempted  to  deny  his  Master.  After 
the  denial  is  once  made,  he  is  led  to  repeat  it  with 
base  and  profane  imprecations.  With  this  experi- 
ment of  concealed  religion  before  us,  I  invite  your 
attention  to 

TJie  influence  of  concealment  in  respect  to  one's 
religious  character  and  relations. 

That  the  subject  may  be  practically  and  profitably 
applied,  let  me  place  before  you  as  clearly  as  possible 

I.  What  may  be  properly  regarded  as  conceal- 
ment IN  RESPECT  TO  ONE'S  RELIGIOUS  CHARACTER  AND 

relations. 

A  clear  distinction  may  be  made  between  conceal- 
ment and  a  modest  diffidence  and  unobtrusiveness. 
The  publican,  who  stood  afar  off  and  smote  upon  his 
breast,  and  cried,  "God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner," 
was  modest  and  unobtrusive,  but  he  was  as  far  from 


CONCEALED  KELIGION.  95 

practising  any  concealment  as  was  the  Pharisee  who 
gave  to  himself  such  a  boastful  prominence.  When 
Zaccheus  came  down  from  the  tree  at  the  Saviour's 
bidding,  and  received  him  joyfully,  and  promised,  in 
the  presence  of  the  multitude,  to  make  restitution  for 
all  unjust  gains,  his  conduct  was  as  free  as  possible 
from  everything  like  an  indecorous  and  proud  obtru- 
siveness.  Indeed,  his  frank  and  beautiful  behavior 
contrasts  delightfully  with  the  conduct  of  Nicodemus, 
that  Master  in  Israel,  who  went,  we  must  use  a  low 
word  for  the  want  of  any  other  to  convey  the  idea, 
who  went  sneakingly  under  the  cover  of  night  to  hold 
a  conversation  with  our  Saviour.  So  when  the  be- 
loved disciple  went  boldly  and  calmly  in  to  the 
high-priest's  palace,  and  followed  his  Master  to  Cal- 
vary, and  stood  by  his  cross,  and  received  from  his 
dying  lips  the  charge  to  protect  and  sustain  the  be- 
reaved mother  of  Christ,  he  was  equally  as  unobtru- 
sive and  modest  as  Peter  was  when  he  was  slinking 
away  in  the  distance,  or  stealthily  creeping  into  the 
palace,  and  retiringly  sitting  down  with  the  servants 
before  the  fire. 

When  one  acts  openly  because  his  duty  calls,  he 
cannot  be  properly  charged  with  a  want  of  modesty 
and  humility,  and  self-distrust.  But  when  one  shrinks 
from  appearing  openly  as  the  friend  of  those  good 
principles  and  persons  for  whom  he  means  to  cherish 
a  secret  regard,  he  is  guilty  of  practising  a  conceal- 
ment which  is  alike  unworthy  in  itself  and  disastrous 
in  its  influence.     But  let  us  contemplate 


96  SERMON  V. 

II.  The  means  by  which  such  a  concealment 

EXERTS  AN  UNHAPPY  INFLUENCE. 

1.  It  takes  away  self-respect.  It  is  not  to  be  denied 
that  there  are  secrecies  belonging  to  all  subjects  of  a 
■warm  affection.  The  soul  that  is  united  to  Christ, 
with  the  confidence  of  an  affianced  bride,  possesses 
many  bosom  thoughts  that  are  entrusted  to  no  other 
ear  save  that  of  her  Redeemer  and  best  friend.  But 
she  does  not,  on  that  account,  feel  it  to  be  allowable  to 
conceal  her  attachment  on  those  occasions  when  there 
is  a  public  taking  of  sides  for  or  against  the  Saviour. 
When  the  good  Simeon  took  the  infant  Jesus  in  his 
arms,  he  said  to  Mary,  his  mother,  "Behold,  this  child 
is  set  for  the  fall  and  rising  again  of  many,  and  for  a 
sign  which  shall  be  spoken  against."  So  it  has  always 
been.  Some  have  openly  gloried  in  his  cross,  others 
have  scorned  his  claims  as  the  Son  of  God. 

Our  Lord  has  established  a  public  social  ordinance, 
in  which  those  who  participate  acknowledge  their 
dependence  upon  the  sacrifice  of  his  body  and  blood 
for  eternal  life.  If  one  attempt  to  practise  conceal- 
ment, and  to  stand  afar  off  while  some  own  and  others 
deny  him,  he  cannot  but  feel  an  impairment  of  his 
self-respect.  If  remorse  of  conscience  only  were  pro- 
duced it  would  be  an  unhappy  influence.  But  there 
is  mingled  with  the  conviction  of  wrong  a  conviction 
of  dishonor.  The  man  that  cherishes  in  his  heart  the 
secret  hope  that  he  is  a  friend  of  Christ,  and  yet  does 
not  avow  it  by  his  conversation  and  his  open  conduct, 
exerts  a  peculiar  influence  upon  his  own  character. 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  97 

He  feels  an  Interest  in  the  things  of  Christ.  He  fol- 
lows afar  off.  He  retires  and  sits  down  away  from 
those  that  express  themselves  warmly  on  either  side, 
and  then  he  bethinks  himself  of  his  position.  He 
always  knew  that  he  was  a  sinner,  but  now,  he  seems 
to  himself  to  be  guilty  of  an  unmanly  timidity.  He 
fears  that  there  is  a  cherished  hypocrisy  in  his  cha- 
racter. He  endeavors  to  resist  the  impression,  and 
says,  ''No,  I  am  really  friendly  to  Christ.  I  love  him 
and  confide  in  him,  but  I  do  not  avow  myself  and  fol- 
low him  openly  through  good  report  and  evil  report, 
because  if  I  once  take  such  a  position  I  must  maintain 
it.''  Then,  again,  the  reflection  will  arise;  but,  if  I 
am  unwilling  to  maintain  such  a  position,  am  I  not 
acting  a  double  part?  No,  I  decline  a  public  and 
open  acknowledgment  of  attachment  to  my  Saviour, 
because  so  many  of  his  professed  followers  are  incon- 
sistent in  their  professions.  Yet,  if  a  great  many  of 
my  professed  friends  had  proved  treacherous,  I  should 
desire  that  those  who  are  really  sincere  would  be  the 
more  frank  and  prompt  in  acting  openly  in  my  be- 
half. 

Thus  convicted  of  insincerity,  a  man  naturally  feels 
that  he  will  not  be  materially  worse  if  he  openly  deny 
his  Saviour;  and  hence,  he  is  prepared  to  disown  him. 
When  the  act  has  been  performed,  he  naturally  con- 
soles himself  with  the  reflection  that,  if  he  is  more 
glaringly  wicked,  he  is  less  chargeable  with  a  mean 
and  degrading  insincerity.  In  this  manner,  the  love 
of  consistency  and  self-respect  furnishes  a  premium  for 
9 


98  SERMON  V. 

denying  the  Saviour.  A  man  feels  that  he  is  acting 
consistently  with  himself  when  he  lays  aside  all  pre- 
tence of  being  secretly  influenced  by  better  principles 
than  he  dares  openly  to  avow. 

2.  Concealment,  in  respect  to  one's  religious  charac- 
ter and  relations,  takes  aiuay  the  influence  of  friends 
who  entertain  and  express  kindred  sentiments.  We 
are  so  constituted  that  the  approbation  of  our  fellow- 
men  is  a  powerful  incitement  to  action.  The  warrior 
moves  calmly  up  to  the  imminent  deadly  breach,  be- 
cause he  fancies  that  his  countrymen  are  beholding, 
and  that  a  thousand  applauding  voices  are  ready  to 
exclaim,  "Well  done,  brave  soldier,  and  self-sacrificing 
patriot."  We  never  think,  in  such  a  case,  that  the 
patriotism  is  not  genuine,  because  the  sentiment  is 
stimulated  by  the  approbation  of  all  the  friends  and 
admirers  of  that  virtue.  On  the  contrary,  the  man 
has  proved  himself  a  true  lover  of  his  country  by 
seeking  the  rewards  of  patriotic  virtue,  and  by  pur- 
posely surrounding  himself  with  incitements  to  its 
hiixhest  exercise.  So,  when  a  man  has  chosen  Christ 
as  his  commander,  and  has  openly  laid  aside  every- 
thing inconsistent  with  such  a  purpose,  that  ''  He 
may  please  him  who  has  chosen  him  to  be  a  soldier," 
he  purposely  surrounds  himself  with  the  friends  of 
the  Redeemer,  avows  his  design  of  meeting,  in  the 
open  field,  every  assault,  and  of  boldly  endeavoring 
to  conquer  temptation  in  the  name  of  Christ. 

The  deserved  confidence  of  the  people  of  God  is  a 
high    and   holy   object   of   desire.       And   since    the 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  99 

strenfrtli  of  our  attachment  to  a  virtue  is  measured 
bj  the  earnestness  "with  which  we  bring  around  our- 
selves the  motives  for  its  practice,  it  is  obvious  that 
an  undisOTised  frankness  in  res^ard  to  our  relio-ious 
character  and  relations  brings  to  us  this  twofold  ad- 
vantage. Fii'st,  the  exercise  of  the  principles  of  holi- 
ness by  a  manly  and  open  assertion  of  them  enhances 
their  vigor.  Secondly,  the  circle  of  faithful  friends 
of  holiness  that  are  thus  brought  to  stand  around  the 
soul  with  approving  eyes,  and  cheering  voices,  to 
commend  every  successful  struggle  for  the  right, 
affords  one  of  the  most  efficient  motives  for  steadfast- 
ness in  well-doing.  But  the  moment  that  a  man 
attempts  to  practice  concealment,  he  loses  both  of 
these  advantages.  His  principles  are  relaxed  by  de- 
clining such  an  action  as  the  crisis  demanded,  and 
the  incitements  of  human  approbation  are  removed. 
When  Peter  followed  afar  off,  and  when  he  sat  down 
w'ith  the  servants,  waiting  to  see  the  end  before  he 
should  commit  himself,  his  principles  of  attachment 
to  Christ  became  languid.  Then,  too,  when  he  more 
needed,  than  ever  before,  the  encouragements  of  the 
avowed  friends  of  his  tried  principles,  he  had  separated 
himself  from  all  such  influences.  If  he  had  stood  close 
by  the  calm  and  heroic  John,  and  watched  for  an  en- 
couraging look,  ever  and  anon,  from  his  patient  Mas- 
ter, he  might  have  risen  above  that  miserable  craven 
fear  which  led  to  the  denial.  Persons,  of  the  slightest 
degree  of  physical  courage,  have  met  a  martyr's  doom 
with  firmness  in  preference  to  disowning  their  Sa- 


100  SERMON  V. 

viour,  when  the  friends  of  Christ,  with  whom  they 
have  been  openly  associated,  have  bid  them  to  re- 
member their  good  confession  before  many  witnesses. 
But  when  one  places  himself  alone,  or  where  he 
fancies  himself  alone,  by  his  concealment,  he  takes 
away  one  of  the  strongest  incitements  to  fidelity  in 
a  time  of  trial. 

3.  Concealment  in  respect  to  ones  religious  charac- 
ter and  relations  increases  the  poioer  of  intimidation 
in  a  mans  spiritual  enemies.  This  it  does  in  two 
ways.  It  renders  the  subject  more  susceptible  to  in- 
timidation while  the  cause  remains  the  same ;  and  it 
augments  the  amount  of  intimidating  influence.  If 
Peter  had  acted  manfully — if  he  had  followed  in  the 
crowd  close  by  his  Master,  without  any  thought  of 
concealment,  what  possible  eff*ect  would  have  been 
produced  by  a  servant-maid's  saying,  ^'Surely  thou 
art  one  of  them?"  Had  Peter  been  moving  forward 
then,  with  an  open,  manly  ardor,  such  a  speech  had 
not  been  heard  at  all  when  coming  from  such  a 
source ;  or,  if  heard,  it  would  have  been  looked  on  as 
one  of  those  petty  assaults  which  a  roused  and  earn- 
est spirit  regards  as  of  too  little  consequence  to  com- 
mand the  least  attention.  But,  as  it  is,  the  attempt 
at  concealment  has  unmanned  a  bold  heart,  and 
caused  a  spirit  of  great  native  energy  to  quail  and 
prevaricate,  and  utter  falsehood,  to  meet  the  scofling 
inquiry  of  a  little  girl. 

The  susceptibility  to  intimidation  is  greatly  aug- 
mented  by   the    attitude  of  cowardly   concealment. 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  101 

Thus,  have  we  often  seen  those  who  make  private  in- 
timations of  a  cherished  devotion  to  religion,  when 
thrown  into  a  mixed  company,  take  special  pains  to 
make  it  understood  that  they  were  not  open  professors 
of  godliness.  A  word  of  reproach,  upon  their  Saviour 
or  his  disciples,  is  enough  to  lead  them  to  deny  him 
before  men.  This  conduct  is  often  shaped  with  a 
wonderful  adroitness  and  skill.  The  man  declares 
that  he  is  a  friend  of  Christianity,  that  he  thinks  well 
of  its  influence  upon  public  morals,  and  speaks  in  tones 
of  commendation  of  certain  ministers  of  the  gospel, 
and  of  Christian  institutions,  but  if  he  see  a  suspicion 
rising  that  he  may  be  a  spiritual  believer,  he  is  careful 
to  make  the  impression  that  he  is  not,  by  denying,  as 
he  can  do  with  truth,  that  he  is  a  professor  of  religion. 
But,  besides  this  susceptibility  to  intimidation,  con- 
cealment augments  the  intimidating  influences.  It 
does  not  appear  that  a  word  was  said  to  John  respect- 
ing his  being  one  of  the  disciples.  There  is  a  com- 
manding dignity  in  a  courageous  deportment.  But 
cowardice  always  awakens  contempt,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  inspires  weak  antagonists  with  courage.  If  a 
man  but  evince  fear  of  wild  animals,  those  which  have 
but  little  native  fierceness  will  be  incited  to  attack 
him,  and,  if  a  man  take  the  attitude,  in  a  mixed  com- 
munity, of  one  who  would  be  the  friend  of  Christ,  and 
who  is  yet  afraid  to  be  openly  so,  attempts  will  be 
made  to  draw  him  aside  which  would  not  be  thought 
of  if  he  were  an  avowed  disciple  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

9* 


102  SERMON  V. 

4.  Concealment  prepares  the  mind  for  open  de- 
nial, because  it  is  the  same  thing  in  p)rincip)le.  There 
are  no  means  by  ■vvliicli  men  are  so  effectually  deceived 
and  prepared  for  a  wicked  and  dishonorable  action  as 
by  alloAving  the  governing  principle  of  such  an  action 
first  to  gain  strength  through  a  passive  indulgence. 
Let  one  suppress  the  truth,  in  certain  portions  of  a 
relation  of  facts  -where  he  was  plainly  bound  to  narrate 
the  w^iole,  and  he  will  easily  learn  to  discolor  actual 
facts,  and  to  utter  palpable  falsehoods.  Let  a  man 
neglect  to  meet  his  pecuniary  engagements.  Em- 
barrassment is  his  apology,  but  if  he  do  not  chasten 
himself  by  making  great  sacrifices  and  securing  to  his 
creditor  such  remuneration  for  the  wrong  as  shall 
make  himself  the  chief  loser,  then  he  will  inure  him- 
self to  that  insensibility  to  the  rights  of  others  which 
prepares  him  for  every  species  of  fraudulent  and 
knavish  transactions.  The  man  that  indulges  himself 
in  making  those  representations  of  facts  which  create 
a  false  impression  by  neglecting  certain  material  parts 
of  the  truth,  is  prepared  to  utter  falsehood,  because  he 
has  already  cherished  and  cultivated  the  habit  of  de- 
ceiving. Now,  precisely  analogous  to  this  relation 
which  the  suppressing  of  truth  has  to  the  uttering  of 
falsehood,  is  the  relation  of  the  concealment  of  one's 
religious  principles  to  the  actual  denial  of  them. 
Peter  had,  in  spirit,  denied  his  Master,  when  he  pur- 
posely slunk  away  in  the  distance,  and  tardily  came 
in  and  sat  doAvn  to  see  the  end  before  he  should  take 
any  open  action.     Jlis  concealment  had  just  such  a 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  108 

relation  to  his  denial,  as  a  genuine  faith  has  to  a  public 
profession  of  love  to  Christ.  Here  is  a  man  who  has 
received  the  gospel  into  a  good  and  honest  heart. 
When  the  occasion  arrives  which  demands  an  open  ex- 
pression, that  expression  is  made,  for  "  out  of  the 
abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh."  He  con- 
fesses  Christ  before  men.  But  he  only  makes  a  more 
extended  declaration  of  what  he  had  said  before  bj  his 
prayers,  and  conversation,  and  changed  demeanor. 
Behold  the  exact  counterpart  of  this.  Here  is  a  man, 
Peter,  who  in  his  heart  is  shrinking  from  the  responsi- 
bility of  being  the  friend  of  Christ.  The  crisis  arrives 
which  demands  an  open  profession.  He  makes  it.  He 
declares,  "  I  know  not  the  man."  Thus  it  is  that  a 
concealment  of  one's  religious  character  and  relations 
exerts  a  disastrous  influence  by  taking  away  self-re- 
spect, by  removing  the  encouragement  of  approving 
friends,  by  augmenting  the  influences  of  intimidation, 
and  by  secretly  cherishing  the  very  sentiments  which 
are  openly  professed  in  a  disowning  of  Christ  as  a 
Saviour  and  friend.  From  these  views  we  may  easily 
discover, 

1.  Why  our  Saviour  laid  so  miicJi  stress  on  confess- 
ing him  before  men.  "Whosoever,"  says  he,  "shall 
confess  me  before  men,  him  will  I  confess  also  before  my 
Father  Avhich  is  in  heaven.  But,  whosoever  shall  deny 
me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before  my  Father 
which  is  in  heaven. ' '  In  another  place,  when  speaking 
of  suff'ering  persecution  for  his  sake,  he  says,  "  He  that 
taketh  not   his  cross  and  followeth  after  me,  is  not 


104  SERMON  V. 

•worthy  of  me."  And  then,  as  if  the  question  whether 
a  man  should  lose  his  life  as  a  consequence  of  this 
open  action  were  of  no  importance  compared  with  the 
momentous  interests  affected  by  an  open  confession, 
he  adds,  "  lie  that  findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  he 
that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake  shall  find  it."  Our 
Saviour  well  knew  that  right  principles  could  not  be 
maintained  in  the  absence  of  all  open  expressions  and 
manifestations  of  them  ;  that  concealment  destroys 
the  self-respect  of  one  who  secretly  pretends  to  be  his 
friend.  He  knew  that  it  took  away  the  salutary  en- 
couragement found  in  the  approbation  of  •  the  pious, 
that  it  increased  the  power  of  intimidation,  and,  that  it 
involved  the  very  principle  expressed  in  an  open  denial 
of  him.  Hence,  he  desired  men  to  count  the  cost  of 
discipleship,  and  not  to  flatter  themselves  with  the 
least  hope  that  they  should  be  owned  as  his  disciples 
at  last,  unless  they  could  willingly  encounter  all  the 
difficulties  connected  with  an  open  avowal,  on  all 
suitable  occasions,  of  attachment  to  Christ;  unless 
they  could  own  him  not  only,  but  also  glory  in  his 
cross. 

You  will  inquire,  then,  if  I  mean  to  maintain  that 
a  connection  with  the  visible  church  is  essential  to 
salvation.  By  no  means.  On  the  contrary,  we  make 
probable  evidence  that  the  soul  is  in  a  state  of  salva- 
tion, a  prerequisite  to  admission  to  the  visible  church. 
That  is  to  say,  if  we  do  not  judge  that  God  has  re- 
ceived the  applicant  by  a  spiritual  adoption,  we  do 
not   admit   him    to   the    ordinances   of  the    church. 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  105 

Certainly,  then,  if  a  man  apparently  converted,  sud- 
denly decease  without  an  opportunity  to  become  con- 
nected with  the  visible  church,  the  fact  that  he  is  not 
a  member  of  the  visible  church  furnishes  no  presump- 
tion against  his  salvation.  Nor  will  a  delay  from  any 
physical  difficulties,  such  as  sickness  or  distance  from 
a  community  of  professed  Christians,  create  a  pre- 
sumption against  him.  We  go  farther,  and  say,  if  he 
entertain  mental  difficulties  arising  from  early  preju- 
dices or  nervous  depression,  his  neglecting  to  unite 
with  the  church  furnishes  no  strong  presumption 
against  his  piety,  unless  he  hesitates,  by  other  methods, 
to  bear  an  open  testimony  of  love  to  Christ.  I  have 
two  cases  in  mind,  that  came  to  my  knowledge  some 
years  since,  with  which  I  will  illustrate  these  excep- 
tions. One  was  a  gentleman  of  a  highly  cultivated 
mind  and  great  influence  in  the  city  of  his  residence. 
He  had  received  his  early  education  among  the  society 
of  Friends.  From  that  source  he  had  derived  a  tena- 
cious prejudice  against  the  ordinances  of  baptism  and 
the  Lord's  supper.  He  was  hopefully  converted  to 
God.  So  thought  his  pious  acquaintances,  and  so  he 
himself  thought.  But,  though  he  did  not  confess 
Christ  in  that  peculiar  manner,  by  publicly  and 
formally  covenanting  with  the  people  of  God,  and 
sitting  down  with  them  at  the  Lord's  table,  yet  he 
practised  no  concealment.  His  reason  for  inaction 
in  that  method  was  found  in  scruples  of  conscience, 
arising  from  a  defective  education.  But  he  did  act 
in  other  things  so  undisguisedly  in  behalf  of  Christ 


lOG  SERMON  V. 

and  his  cause,  that  the  whole  coramimitj  thought  of 
him  as  a  professor  of  religion.     lie  was  accustomed 
liumbly  to  kneel  at  the  family  altar,  and  offer  prayer 
to  God.     His  voice  was  heard  in  supplication  at  the 
meeting  for  social  prayer,  and  both  Christians  and 
unbelievers  concurred  in  the  approval  of  his  warm 
and  earnest  exhortations  addressed  to  his  friends  and 
fellow-citizens  to  persuade  them  to  become  reconciled 
to  God.     If  anything  was  to  be  done  by  wise  asso- 
ciated endeavor  to  repress  vice  or  to  advance  piety, 
he  was  among  the  first  to  act,  and  that,  too,  whether 
such  action  was  likely  to  bring  upon  himself  honor  or 
obloquy.     Such  a  man  cannot  be  said  to  be  practising 
concealment,  or  to  be  guilty  of  doing  anything  which 
in  principle  involves  a  denial  of  Christ  before  men. 
The  other  case  to  which  I  referred,  was  that  of  a  dear 
friend,  now  I  trust  in  heaven.  He  had  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  his  sinfulness.    A  morbid  apprehension  that 
he  might  become  guilty  of  the  body  and  blood  of  the 
Lord  prevented  his  union  with  the  visible  church  for 
many  years.     He  listened  to  evangelical  instruction 
with  great   delight.     He    offered   the   morning   and 
evening  sacrifice  in  his  family,  and  often  have  I  seen 
him  rise  up  in  a  meeting  for  prayer  and  religious  con- 
ference, and  exhort  the  youth  of  the  parish  to  make 
their  peace  with  God.    I  recollect  one  occasion,  in  par- 
ticular, on  which  he  adverted  to  the  apparent  incon- 
sistency of  a  man  of  his  years,  whom  they  had  all 
known  from  their  childhood,  exhorting  them  to  come 
to  their  Saviour,  while  he  himself  was  not  a  member 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  107 

of  the  visible  church.  *'Be  it  so,"  said  he;  "grant 
that  I  am  inconsistent  in  that  particular,  yet  I 
beg  of  you,  my  young  friends,  to  consider  that  your 
souls  are  riot  the  less  valuable  on  that  account,  nor  is 
the  blessed  Saviour  less  worthy  of  your  love."  Now 
let  it  be  admitted  that  such  an  one  was  a  Christian, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  yet,  though  a  Christian 
without  literally  belonging  to  the  church,  he  was  not  a 
Christian  practising  concealment  in  respect  to  his 
religious  character  and  relations.  He  did  not  refuse 
to  own  Christ  before  men.  On  the  contrary,  he 
witnessed  a  good  confession.  Thus  it  is  doubtless  a 
fact  that  there  are  true  Christians  who  are  not,  at 
the  present  moment,  professing  Christ  before  men  in 
one  specific  and  important  method  of  doing  so, 
namely,  by  a  visible  union  with  the  church.  Yet,  we 
have  no  reason  to  think  that  those  are  Christians  who 
refuse  to  take  up  the  cross  in  any  way,  and  who  do 
not  with  undisguised  frankness  avow  themselves  the 
friends  of  their  Redeemer.  There  are  persons  that 
seem  desirous  of  knowing  to  how  great  an  extent  they 
can  avoid  committing  themselves  before  the  world  as 
spiritual  Christians,  and  yet  be  in  a  state  of  accept- 
ance with  God.  If  I  were  to  answer  such  an  inquiry, 
I  would  say,  just  as  long  as  Peter  could  sit  with  the 
enemies  of  his  Master,  virtually  pretending  to  be  an 
indifi'erent  spectator,  without  involving  himself  in  all 
the  essential  guilt  of  the  denial.  That  is,  not  one 
moment.     The    slightest    analysis   of  such  a   desire 


108  SERMON  V. 

shows  it  to  be  at  war  with  that  sincerity  which  is  in- 
dispensable to  the  lowest  degree  of  Christian  virtue. 

2.  TJie  subject  suggests  the  importance  of  an  im- 
mediate enti'auce  upon  all  active  duties  hy  those  who 
think  to  maintain  a  Christian  life.  Activity  in  the 
cause  of  Christ  is  the  highest  kind  of  profession.  We 
are  more  anxious  that  our  conduct  should  be  consistent 
with  former  actions  than  that  it  should  be  consistent 
with  the  mere  expressions  of  our  lips.  AYe  know  that 
''  actions  speak  louder  than  words."  If  one  of  you 
were  to  perform  some  act  that  implied  a  denial  of  your 
Saviour,  it  would  mortify  you  more  deeply  to  know 
that  some  observer  were  contrasting  this  conduct  with 
your  having  prayed  in  public,  and  with  your  having 
exhorted  him  to  make  his  peace  with  God  the  day 
previous,  than  it  would  to  reflect  that  it  disagreed 
with  certain  engagements  formally  entered  into. 
There  is  no  pledge  to  future  obedience  to  God  that 
can  operate  with  such  power  as  that  which  is  implied 
in  a  course  of  manly  Christian  action. 

3.  A  Cliristian  is  never  in  greater  danger  than 
when  tempted  to  conceal  his  religious  character  and 
relations.  Let  me  advise  you.  Christians,  whenever 
you  change  your  residence,  take  your  place  at  once 
among  the  people  of  God.  If  you  stay  but  a  few 
weeks  even  among  strangers,  make  yourself  responsi- 
ble in  some  way  to  Christians,  and  to  those  with  whom 
you  associate,  for  your  religious  behavior.  And,  if 
you  stay  long,  connect  yourself  visibly  with  the  people 
of  God. 


CONCEALED  RELIGION.  109 

4.  In  conclusion,  let  me  say  that  perfect  frank- 
ness and  openness  are  indispensable  to  success  in 
seeking  salvation.  Surely,  if  a  Christian  must  suffer 
as  Peter  did  for  practising  concealment,  then  an  un- 
converted sinner  can  never  find  salvation  while  pursu- 
ing such  a  course.  No,  my  friend,  your  hope  of  going 
to  heaven  unseen,  as  if  by  a  subterranean  passage,  is 
a  vain  hope.  You  cannot,  by  such  endeavors,  rise 
any  higher  than  you  now  are.  You  must  be  willing 
that  your  pious  friends,  your  pastor,  your  enemies, 
even,  should  know  that  you  are  seeking  salvation. 
You  must  be  willing,  if  needs  be,  that  the  wicked 
should  scoff  at,  and  persecute  you.  You  must  be 
willing  to  take  Christ  for  your  Master,  and  to  follow 
him  through  good  report  and  evil  report,  to  own  him 
openly  as  your  Saviour.  You  must  assume  the  truth 
of  his  declaration :  "  Whosoever  confesseth  me  before 
men,  him  will  I  also  confess  before  my  Father  who  is 
in  heaven." 


10 


SERMON   VI. 

THE  GREAT  SALVATION. 

HOW  SHALL  ATE  ESCAPE,  IF  WE  NEGLECT  SO  GREAT  SALVATION? 

Ileb.  VII.  3. 

This  text  suggests  at  once  three  important  thoughts, 
each  one  of  which  may  be  profitably  made  the  ground 
of  a  separate  discourse.  First,  we  may  consider  the 
greatness  of  the  Christian  salvation.  Secondly,  the 
impossibility  of  escaping  the  severest  doom,  except 
by  means  of  this  salvation.  And  thirdly,  the  reason- 
ableness and  propriety  of  God's  leaving  men  to  perish 
for  the  mere  neglect  of  the  gospel. 

At  this  time  your  attention  is  solicited  to  the  first 
of  these  themes. 

I.    The  greatness  of  the  Christian  salvation. 

The  magnitude  of  an  object  may  be  indicated  by  a 
variety  of  means.  If  it  be  the  production  of  an  ele- 
vated mind,  the  length  of  time  employed  in  accom- 
plishing it,  the  various  agencies  of  subordinate  coad- 
jutors, the  power  and  influence  of  the  prime  actor  in 
the  achievement,  the  conservation  of  other  great 
interests  as  subsidiary  to  the  work,  the  nature  of  the 
work  itself  as  involving  great  power,  the  struggle  with 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  1 1 1 

antagonist  influences,  the  benefits  of  the  enterprise  to 
individuals,  and  the  numbers  that  share  its  blessings, 
are  all  indications  of  its  greatness,  its  true  importance. 
There  can  be  no  doubt,  if  we  acknowledge  the  sacred 
Scriptures  as  authority,  that  the  scheme  of  salvation 
began  to  be  developed  immediately  after  the  fall  of 
man.  Then  it  was  promised  that  "  the  seed  of  the 
woman  should  bruise  the  head  of  the  serpent."  That 
is,  to  divest  the  thought  of  its  figurative  costume,  an 
incarnate  Redeemer  should  come,  and  should  gain  a 
complete  conquest  over  the  powers  of  evil  in  our  world. 
The  coming  of  this  Saviour,  the  work  of  his  mediation, 
as  far  as  it  was  performed  between  the  time  of  his 
coming  to  earth  in  the  person  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
till  he  ascended  and  sat  down  again  upon  his  throne 
in  the  heavens,  and  the  scheme  of  grace  connected 
with  his  mission,  and  the  result,  constitute  the  great 
salvation  referred  to  in  the  text. 

Now,  observe  the  labor  and  the  time  employed 
in  preparing  the  way  for  the  coming  o£  Christ.  A 
course  of  instruction  was  commenced  with  the  early 
patriarchs.  A  system  of  family  religion  was  esta- 
blished. Institutions  were  founded.  The  State  arose, 
with  its  legislation  and  its  magistracy.  A  church 
was  constituted,  with  its  order  of  service,  its  sacred 
liturgy,  its  priesthood  and  its  symbols  prefiguring  the 
Lamb  of  God,  who  should  take  away  the  sins  of  the 
world.  This  church  was  preserved  and  carried  through 
the  most  astonishing  changes  for  a  period  of  full  four 
thousand   years.     The   most   stupendous  judgments 


112  SERMON  vr. 

were  inflicted  on  the  world  as  a  means  of  preserving 
the  race,  and  of  protecting  the  church  and  preparing 
mankind  for  the  reception  of  the  Messiah. 

When  the  population  of  the  globe  had  become 
numerous,  many  suppose  far  more  so  than  it  has  ever 
since  been,  a  single  family  was  shielded  by  a  Divine 
interposition,  and  the  entire  population  of  the  world 
besides  destroyed  by  a  flood.  Then,  the  work  of  ad- 
vancing the  race,  and  preparing  for  the  advent  of  the 
Messiah  was  begun  anew  in  the  family  of  Noah. 
Corruption  and  idolatry  again  became  ascendant. 
Abraham  was  called.  This  father  of  the  faithful  was 
begirt  by  a  peculiar  Divine  protection.  He  and  his 
posterity  received  repeated  direct  communications 
from  heaven.  God  "  rebuked  kings  for  their  sake, 
saying :  Touch  not  mine  anointed,  and  do  my  pro- 
phets no  harm."  By  a  remarkable  judgment,  the 
cities  of  the  plain  were  destroyed,  and  righteous  Lot 
was  delivered.  This  served,  as  we  are  taught  in  the 
Epistle  of  Jude,  as  a  specimen  of  the  nature  of  the 
Divine  government  in  delivering  the  righteous  and 
overthrowing  the  wicked.  Then,  by  a  singular  train 
of  providences,  the  church  went  into  Egypt.  While 
there,  the  ascendency  of  Joseph,  with  his  influence,  to 
protect  his  people  in  the  midst  of  a  great  nation,  was 
a  beautiful  type  of  the  coming  of  the  Messiah  and  of 
the  influence  of  his  mediation  in  behalf  of  his  people. 
The  church  sank  into  a  state  of  civil  bondage,  under 
which  it  groaned  for  nearly  four  centuries.  Then 
Moses  was  raised  up  as  a  deliverer.    Signal  miracles 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  113 

were  again  employed  to  deliver  the  people  of  God 
and  overthrow  the  wicked.  Thence  arose  the  song 
of  Moses  at  the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  giving  a 
still  deeper  tone  to  the  sentiment  of  the  church,  in 
her  reception  of  the  truth  that  God  is  a  God  of  mercy 
and  of  judgment. 

Indeed,  all  the  signal  deliverances  of  the  people  of 
God  seem  to  have  been  intended  to  deepen  and  extend 
this  impression.  The  salvation  of  Noah,  and  the 
destruction  of  the  old  world ;  the  exodus  of  Israel 
from  Egypt,  and  the  death  of  the  first-born ;  the 
passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  the  overthrow  of  Pharaoh 
and  his  hosts  ;  the  triumphs  of  Joshua,  and  the  crush- 
ing of  idolatrous  tribes ;  the  deliverances  by  the 
judges;  the  subjugation  of  the  land  by  David,  and 
the  subsequent  recoveries  from  captivity,  seem  to 
have  been  intended  to  make  this  one  impression,  that 
God  will  deliver  his  people  and  destroy  his  enemies. 

Another  grand  conception,  as  preparing  the  way 
for  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  was  dependence  upon 
a  single  distinguished  deliverer.  This  thought  was 
generated  in  the  mind  of  the  church,  and  rendered 
familiar  by  a  succession  of  individuals  achieving  the 
deliverance  of  the  church,  and  thus  gradually  pre- 
paring the  human  mind  for  one  great  deliverer  in 
the  Messiah.  Such  were  Moses  and  Joshua,  and  the 
Judges,  and  David,  and  the  distinguished  reformers 
that  recovered  Israel  from  the  captivities. 

Then,  there  was  a  system  of  sacrificial  offerings  of 
innocent  victims,  prefiguring  the  Lamb  of  God,  and 

10* 


114  SERMON  VI. 

an   interceding   high-priest,    and   an   entrance   into 

the  most  holy  place,  symbolizing  the  intercession  of 
the  Redeemer.  In  addition  to  this,  there  were  types 
of  the  Saviour's  universal  conquest  in  the  influence 
of  the  ascendency  of  Joseph,  and  of  the  pacific  and 
wide  dominion  of  Solomon.  To  complete  the  whole 
of  this  preparatory  influence,  a  class  of  prophets  was 
raised  up,  the  influence  of  whom  was  a  sort  of  embryo 
evangelism,  and  synagogues  were  brought  into  exist- 
ence, with  their  readers  of  the  law  and  their  elders,  as 
embryo  Christian  churches.  Now,  let  me  ask  you  to 
glance  at  a  brief  summary  of  what  was  done,  and  the 
means  by  which  it  was  accomplished.  To  prepare 
the  way  of  the  Lord,  for  announcing  distinctly  and 
clearly  the  great  salvation,  five  principal  ends  were 
attained. 

1.  A  distinct  and  deep  impression  was  created,  in 
respect  to  the  great  primary  truth  that  lies  at  the 
basis  of  all  government,  that  God  was  a  God  of  mercy 
and  judgment.  This  end  was  secured  by  actual 
deliverances,  and  judgments  of  a  signal  character. 
The  deliverance  of  Noah,  and  the  destruction  of  the 
old  world;  the  deliverance  of  Lot,  and  the  destruction 
of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah;  the  exodus  of  Israel,  and 
the  slaying  of  the  first-born ;  the  passage  of  the  Ked 
Sea,  and  the  overthrow  of  Pharaoh;  the  conquest 
of  Joshua  ;  the  successive  deliverances  by  the  Judges, 
and  the  subjugation  of  the  land  in  the  reign  of  David; 
these  great  movements,  interspersed  with  providences 
of  a  diff"ercnt  character,  and  extending  through  more 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  115 

than  twenty  centuries,  acted  on  the  human  mind  as 
a  series  of  chemical  or  philosophical  experiments  in- 
fluence us,  when  they  place  before  us  a  single  great 
truth,  in  concrete  forms  and  interesting  varieties. 

2.  The  idea  of  a  single  great  deliverer  was  ren- 
dered familiar.  Moses,  Joshua,  successive  judges, 
and  David,  as  signal  instances,  created  an  impression 
so  distinct  and  deep,  that  not  only  the  Jews  expected 
a  deliverer,  but  even  heathen  philosophers  were 
speculating  upon  the  probability  of  God's  sending 
some  one  great  reformer  that  should  change  the  moral 
state  of  mankind.  Such  an  one  was  even  confidently 
expected,  waited  for ;  Christ  was  the  desire  of  all 
nations. 

3.  The  idea  of  a  sacrificial  ofi"ering,  and  the  eifectual 
intercessions  of  another  on  our  behalf,  was  implanted 
and  strengthened  in  the  minds  of  men.  Lambs  and 
bullocks,  turtle-doves,  and  young  pigeons,  were  sacri- 
ficed. Altars,  smoking  daily  with  the  blood  of  inno- 
cent victims,  burnt-off'erings,  and  the  entrance  of 
priests  into  the  holy  place — all  these  imposing  sym- 
bols, accompanied  with  the  declaration  that  without 
shedding  of  blood  there  was  no  remission,  were 
maintained  with  more  or  less  fulness  from  the  time 
of  Abel's  offering  till  "  Christ  our  passover  [was] 
slain  for  us,"  and  our  great  High-Priest  passed  into 
the  holy  place  above,  to  intercede  for  his  people. 

4.  The  completeness  of  our  Saviour's  ultimate  con- 
quest was  impressed  on  the  minds  of  his  people  by  the 


116  SERMON  VI. 

influence,  the  perfect  ascendency,  of  Joseph  and  of 
Solomon. 

5.  The  evangelism  of  the  later  prophets,  and  the 
establishment  of  the  synagogue,  gave  the  finishing 
stroke  in  the  preparation  for  the  appearance  of  the 
Messiah.  Surely,  that  is  a  great  salvation  which  is 
ushered  into  the  world  with  such  grand  preparations. 
If  a  monarch  were  coming  to  perform  some  great 
enterprise ;  if  he  had  been  long  preparing  the  way  for 
his  advent ;  if  he  were  preceded  by  a  resistless  force 
in  glittering  armor,  extending  thousands  of  miles  ;  if 
an  equal  army  of  scholars  followed  them,  and  a  still 
longer  line  of  statesmen  and  princes  succeeded,  and 
this  great  procession  were  fortyyears  in  passing  before 
you,  though  you  had  not  yet  seen  the  king  himself, 
nor  even  his  chariot,  or  his  immediate  attendants,  you 
could  not  fail  to  regard  such  precursors  as  indications 
of  the  magnificence  of  the  work  for  which  all  this  was 
a  mere  preparation.  The  precursors  of  Christ,  in  his 
great  salvation,  are  immeasurably  more  imposing  and 
grand.  They  are  deliverances  and  judgments ;  a 
train  of  successive  conquerors;  monarchs  that  have 
exercised  the  most  pacific  and  happy  supremacy; 
prophets,  speaking  of  his  kingdom  as  if  its  history 
were  already  written.  This  procession,  extending 
through  a  period  of  four  thousand  years,  and  in  all 
its  length  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  innocent  victims, 
proclaims  the  grandeur  of  the  Messiah's  mission  ;  the 
greatness  of  the  Christian  salvation. 

II.   The  agency  of  subordinate  coadjutors  is  another 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  117 

striking  indication  of  the  greatness  of  the  salvation 
of  the  gospel.  I  do  not  here  refer  to  the  instrumen- 
tality of  legislators,  conquerors,  poets  and  reformers 
among  men,  nor  to  the  subsidizing  of  the  powers  of 
nature  in  ushering  in  or  aiding  the  progress  of  the 
kingdom  of  Christ.  These  have  just  been  presented 
in  a  different  connection.  I  refer  rather  to  angelic 
agency.  While  we  possess  no  minute  and  detailed 
information  respecting  the  mode  in  which  angels  act 
in  the  work  of  redemption,  we  are  distinctly  informed 
that  they  take  a  deep  and  earnest  interest  in  the 
salvation  of  the  gospel.  In  one  place,  the  apostle 
Peter  intimates  that  the  scheme  surpasses  their  com- 
prehension. "  Which  things,"  says  he,  "  the  angels 
desire  to  look  into.''  These  holy  beings  possess 
capacities  and  powers  far  beyond  what  is  attributed  to 
them  by  those  cursory  and  careless  readers  who  have 
not  felt  an  interest  in  pondering  upon  those  glimpses 
of  their  character  which  we  incidentally  catch  in  the 
word  of  God.  Angels  were  originally  superior  to  men. 
I  infer  this  from  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  where  he 
says  of  man:  ''Thou  madest  him  a  little  lower  than 
the  angels."  This  cannot  mean  less  than  an  intima- 
tion that  the  feeblest  of  the  holy  angels  is  superior  to 
the  highest  of  the  human  race.  But  there  are  superior 
angels,  archangels,  great  in  strength.  As  Milton  says, 
in  the  characteristic  stateliness  of  his  prose  composi- 
tion :  "  The  angels  themselves,  as  the  apostle  that  saw 
them  in  his  rapture  describes,  are  distinguished  and 
quaternioned  into  the  celestial   princedoms  and  sa- 


118  SERMON  VI. 

trapies,  according  as  God  himself  has  writ  his  imperial 
decrees,  through  the  great  provinces  of  heaven." 
Such  being  their  original  superiority,  and  the  period 
of  their  existence  being  indefinitely  long,  we  cannot  re- 
sist the  impression  that  they  are  beings  of  vast  power. 
Some  of  them,  we  are  sure,  were  in  being  previously 
to  the  creation  of  the  world,  and  they  may  have  ex- 
isted for  many  thousand  centuries  before.  The  great- 
est works  ascribed  to  them  in  the  Scriptures  seem  to 
have  been  performed  with  the  utmost  ease. 

I  cite  but  a  single  instance,  out  of  many  that  might 
be  selected.  It  is  that  of  the  angel  of  the  Lord, 
going  out  and  slaying,  in  a  single  night,  a  hundred 
and  eighty-five  thousand  men  in  the  camp  of  the  As- 
syrians, mentioned  in  2  Kings  xix.  35.  The  particular 
to  which  I  wish  to  call  your  attention,  is  this.  His 
dreadful  dealing  out  of  death  was  not  like  a  slaughter 
produced  by  the  superiority  of  an  antagonistic  force. 
It  was  a  single  stroke,  performing  the  work  with  such 
a  silent  power  that  the  effect  was  not  perceived,  by 
survivors,  till  the  following  morning.  I  am  aware 
that  it  may  be  said  that  the  phrase,  angel  of  the  Lord, 
may  be  employed  here  figuratively,  to  represent  some 
sudden  and  fatal  disease.  Still,  the  borrowing  of  the 
word  angel  to  represent  such  a  power  is  an  intimation 
that  angelic  agency  possesses  a  greatness  correspond- 
ing with  this  effect.  That  I  may  fix  upon  your  minds 
a  distinct  impression  of  the  greatness  of  the  effect,  and 
of  the  ease  witli  which  it  was  produced,  let  me  recite 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  119 

to  you  a  graphic  description  of  it,  from  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  poets  in  the  language. 

"  The  angel  of  death  spread  his  wings  on  the  blast, 
And  breathed  in  the  face  of  the  foe  as  he  passed ; 
And  the  eyes  of  the  sleepers  waxed  deadly  and  chill, 
And  their  hearts  but  once  heaved,  and  forever  grew  still. 

"  And  there  lay  the  steed  with  his  nostril  all  wide, 
But  through  it  there  rolled  not  the  breath  of  his  pride ; 
And  the  foam  of  his  gasping  lay  white  on  the  turf, 
And  cold  as  the  spray  of  the  rock-beating  surf. 

**  And  there  lay  the  rider  distorted  and  pale, 
With  the  dew  on  his  brow  and  the  rust  on  his  mail ; 
And  the  tents  were  all  silent,  the  banners  alone. 
The  lances  unlifted,  the  trumpets  unblown. 

*'  And  the  widows  of  Ashur  are  loud  in  their  wail, 
And  the  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of  Baal ; 
And  the  might  of  the  gentile  unsmote  by  the  sword, 
Hath  melted  like  snow  in  the  breath  of  the  Lord.^'    . 

There  is  one  other  instance  of  angelic  greatness 
mentioned  in  the  apocalypse,  in  respect  to  which  I 
make  a  passing  remark.  His  appearance  was  one  of 
such  majesty  and  glory  that  the  apostle  John,  who, 
we  must  believe,  had  elevated  conceptions  of  the  Deity, 
mistook  him  for  God  himself,  and  fell  at  his  feet  to 
worship  him.  The  angel  forbade  him,  assuring  him 
that  he  was  only  a  fellow-servant. 

These  glorious  beings  are  represented  as  existing 
in  vast  numbers,  and  as  exercising  an  important 
agency  in  ushering  in  and  promoting  the  Christian 
salvation.     The  law  was  given  through  their  instru- 


120  SERMON  VI. 

mentality.  Thus  it  is  said,  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apos- 
tles, that  the  Jews  had  received  the  law  by  the  dispo- 
sition of  angels.  According  to  Calvin,  Beza,  and, 
indeed,  all  the  best  commentators,  this  means  that 
angels  were  the  instruments  in  giving  the  law  at 
Mount  Sinai.  In  Ps.  Ixviii.  17,  it  is  said  :  "  The  cha- 
riots of  the  Lord  are  twenty  thousand,  even  thousands 
of  angels :  the  Lord  is  among "  them  as  at  Sinai, 
in  the  holy  place."  Moses,  in  referring  to  the  same 
event  says  :  "  The  Lord  came  from  Sinai  and  rose  up 
from  Seir  unto  them:  He  shined  forth  from  Mount 
Paran,  and  he  came  with  ten  thousands  of  saints 
(that  is,  angels);  from  his  right  hand  went  a  fiery 
law  for  them."  Angels  often  appeared  to  the  patri- 
archs and  prophets  ;  they  instructed  Daniel  andJohn 
in  their  prophetical  communications.  They  came 
down  in  a  multitude  and  celebrated,  by  an  anthem  of 
praise,  the  birth  of  the  Messiah.  They  were  with 
him  in  his  temptation.  An  angel  strengthened  him 
in  the  prayer  of  agony  preceding  his  crucifixion. 
An  angel  rolled  the  stone  from  the  door  of  the  sepul- 
chre and  told  the  disciples  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ. 
An  angel  brought  Peter  from  prison,  dissolving  the 
fetters  of  iron  and  opening  the  prison  doors.  So 
deep  and  universal  is  their  sympathy  in  the  work  of 
man's  salvation,  that  it  is  represented  by  describing 
them  as  thrilled  with  joy  when  a  single  sinner  is  con- 
verted. They  shall  also  take  part  in  the  final  judg- 
ment. Christ  shall  then  be  seated  on  his  glorious 
throne,  and  all  his  holy  angels  with  him.     That  must 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  121 

be  a  great  salvation,  which  enlists  the  energies  of 
such  beings  in  such  numbers,  and  through  such  a 
period  of  time. 

III.  The  greatness  of  the  salvation  of  the  gospel  is 
indicated  by  the  character  and  work  of  Christ.  Our 
Saviour  speaks  of  his  pre-existent  state  in  the  most 
extraordinary  manner.  He  does  not  attempt  any  proof 
of  his  former  existence,  but  he  assumes  it  in  the  most 
familiar  manner,  speaking  of  the  glory  which  he  had 
with  the  Father  before  the  world  was,  and  of  the  Son 
of  Man's  ascending  up  where  he  was  before,  as  truths 
of  an  undeniable  character,  and  to  be  received  on  his 
veracity.  The  apostle  Paul  also  speaks  of  Christ  as 
the  Creator  of  all  things.  "  By  him  (says  he)  were  all 
things  created  that  are  in  heaven  and  that  are  in  earth, 
visible  and  invisible,  whether  they  be  thrones  or 
dominions,  or  principalities,  or  powers — all  things 
were  created  by  him  and  for  him."  This  power  of 
the  Son  of  God  has  been  concentrated  on  the  work 
of  redemption.  He  became  incarnate  to  promote  it. 
He  wrought  his  stupendous  miracles  for  the  same 
end.  His  earnestness  was  manifested  in  his  teach- 
ings, his  sufferings,  his  death.  In  all  the  Sa- 
viour's work,  of  creating  and  governing  physically 
the  universe,  there  is  no  appearance  of  any  struggle 
of  earnest  endeavor.  The  work  of  creation,  as  far 
as  we  can  judge,  was  performed  with  infinite  ease. 
The  physical  universe  is  upheld  without  effort.  But 
the  work  of  redemption  costs  a  sacrifice  on  the  part 
of  the  same  Being;  he  condescended,  he  became 
11 


122  SERMON  VI. 

subordinate,  obedient  unto  death.  That  must  be  a 
great  work  which  called  forth  the  energies  of  such  a 
Being  for  its  accomplishment. 

IV.  It  is  an  indication  of  the  greatness  of  the  salva- 
tion of  the  gospel  that  the  world  itself  is  preserved  for 
the  sake  of  accomplishing  its  objects.  In  the  second 
epistle  of  Peter,  that  apostle  adverts  to  the  destruction 
of  the  old  world  by  a  flood,  and  then  informs  us  that 
the  same  heavens  and  earth  which  now  are,  are  reserved 
unto  fire  against  the  day  of  judgment  and  perdition 
of  ungodly  men.  He  then  intimates  that  the  delay 
of  this  judgment  is  to  be  accounted  for  simply  on  this 
ground,  that  God  is  not  willing  that  any  should  perish, 
but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance.  That  is  to 
say,  the  earth  itself  is  preserved  that  the  great  salva- 
tion may  be  carried  out  in  its  glorious  results.  Is 
not  that  a  great  movement,  a  magnificent  enterprise, 
for  which  the  earth  itself  is  kept  in  being? 

V.  The  greatness  of  the  Christian  salvation  is 
further  indicated  by  the  value  of  the  benefits  which  it 
confers  on  every  human  being  who  becomes  the  object 
of  its  saving  power.  These  benefits  are  often  pre- 
sented to  you  in  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  They 
scarcely  require  to  be  mentioned,  were  it  not  for  the 
fact  that  our  very  familiarity  with  them  demands  of 
us  that  we  pause  for  a  moment  and  dwell  upon  their 
overwhelming  import.  The  Christian  salvation  de- 
livers the  soul  from  sin — recovers  it  from  a  habit  of 
transgression  in  which  it  must  sink  in  eternal  degra- 
dation unless  it  be   reclaimed  and  sanctified  by  the 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  123 

gospel.  In  the  place  of  being  left  to  such  a  degraded 
state,  it  is  brought  to  a  state  of  perfect  and  eternal 
purity ;  every  power  is  exalted,  every  affection  is 
ennobled:  and  the  entire  character  restored  to  the 
perfect  moral  image  of  God.  The  gospel  saves  the 
soul  from  unutterable  and  eternal  torment.  I  need 
not  dwell  upon  it.  You  know  the  fearful  imagery, 
the  fire,  the  remorse,  the  prison,  the  companionship, 
and  the  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth  by  which  the 
unhappy  state  of  the  lost  is  represented.  From  all 
this  the  gospel  saves  the  soul,  and  places  it  in  a  con- 
dition fitly  represented  by  a  residence  in  a  city  paved 
with  gold,  by  rivers  of  pleasure  and  transporting 
songs  of  praise,  and  an  uninterrupted  companionship 
with  saints  and  angels  and  Christ  himself,  and  im- 
mortal joys.  That  is  a  great  salvation  which  can 
deliver  men  from  such  evil,  and  raise  them  to  such 
blessedness. 

VI.  I  mention  but  one  more  indication  of  the 
greatness  of  the  Christian  salvation.  The  extent  of 
this  salvation  in  the  subjugation  of  the  world  to  Christ 
and  in  the  largeness  of  the  numbers  saved.  Christ, 
we  are  told,  was  manifested  to  destroy  the  works  of 
the  devil ;  and  in  many  ways,  we  are  taught,  that  his 
conquest  over  the  world  shall  be  complete.  It  will 
silence  the  clarion  of  war,  by  its  pacific  influence.  It 
will  melt  the  sword  of  the  magistrate,  and  unbar  the 
door  of  the  prison.  It  will  change  the  cottage  of 
squalid  poverty  into  an  ample  and  cleanly  mansion, 
and  the  rags  of  beggary  into  garments  of  fine  linen 


124  SERMON  VI. 

and  scarlet.  It  will  place  the  lowest  stratum  of  so- 
ciety on  the  same  platform  of  refinement  and  charac- 
ter which  the  highest  now  occupies.  It  will  make 
holiness  universal,  and  crowd  the  whole  earth  with 
teeming  millions  of  happy  population.  You  would 
think  a  scheme  of  earthly  ambition  a  great  one  which 
should  be  of  such  a  nature,  planned  with  such  wisdom 
and  executed  with  such  vigor  as  to  bring  every  earthly 
monarch  in  chains  to  grace  the  triumph  of  the  con- 
queror. You  would  say  it  was  great,  if  it  thus  sub- 
jected all  the  earth  to  one  political  head.  But  Christ 
shall  cause  every  monarch  on  earth  to  follow  his  trium- 
phal chariot,  and  that  without  chains.  He  will 
subdue  without  degrading — subjugate  to  exalt:  he  will 
divest  princes  of  their  crowns  only  by  giving  richer 
ones,  alike  to  them  and  each  one  of  their  subjects. 
He  will  rule  the  world  by  the  simple  power  of  charity. 
Y^ou  may  listen  to  such  statements  now  with  a  smile 
of  incredulity.  Y^et  principles  are  at  work  which  are 
with  the  utmost  certainty  leading  to  these  results. 
The  knowledge  of  the  Lord  shall  cover  the  earth  as 
the  waters  cover  the  sea.  Where  darkness  covered  the 
earth,  and  gross  darkness  the  people,  there  the  light  of 
the  moon  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  the  light 
of  the  sun  shall  be  seven-fold,  as  the  light  of  seven 
days.  Then,  who  can  estimate  the  number  that  will 
be  ultimately  reached,  blessed,  and  eternally  saved 
by  the  gospel  ?  It  will  be  a  great  multitude  which 
no  man  can  number.  When  they  shall  all  stand  on 
the   heavenly  hills   with   harp   and   song,  when  the 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  125 

shouts  of  the  ransomed  shall  rise  as  the  sound  of 
many  waters,  and  all  this  blessedness  shall  be  seen  as 
the  result  of  the  Saviour's  mission,  then  it  will  be 
acknowledged  that  this  is  a  great  salvation.  I  close 
with  a  single  reflection.  How  vast  and  solemn  the 
responsibility  of  those  who  enjoy  the  institutions  of 
the  gospel.  This  salvation,  my  friends,  is  a  magni- 
ficent system  of  grace,  intended  to  promote  the  present 
and  eternal  well-being  of  each  one  of  you.  Shall  four 
thousand  years  of  judgment  and  mercy  be  employed 
to  usher  in  the  full  announcement  of  it,  and  can  you 
with  impunity  neglect  it?  Shall  a  succession  of  great 
deliverers  be  raised  up  to  prepare  the  way  for  the 
great  Deliverer,  and  will  you  refuse  to  be  rescued  by 
his  grace  ?  Shall  victims  bleed  daily  for  forty  centu- 
ries to  familiarize  the  human  mind  to  the  idea  of  an 
expiation  by  an  innocent  victim,  and  you  decline  to 
avail  yourself  of  an  atoning  sacrifice  made  by  the  Son 
of  God  ?  Shall  myriads  of  holy  angels  manifest  an 
interest  in  a  scheme  of  redemption  not  intended  for 
them,  but  for  you,  and  you  yourself  neglect  it  ?  Shall 
the  Son  of  God  come  down  from  his  glorious  throne, 
and  work  stupendous  miracles,  and  teach  heavenly 
doctrines,  and  bleed  and  die  for  you,  and  the  rocks  be 
rent,  and  the  earth  quake  from  sympathy  with  him, 
and  you,  bought  with  his  blood,  feel  no  sympathy,  no 
interest  in  his  scheme  of  mercy  ?  Shall  this  salvation 
ransom  men  from  the  power  of  sin,  rescue  them  from 
eternal  death,  and  exalt  them  to  heaven,  and  you,  the 
very  object  of  its  regard,  slight  it  ?     Shall  it  conflict 

11* 


126  SERMON  VI. 

TN'ith  the  antagonist  powers  of  darkness,  and  go  on 
from  conquering  to  conquer,  till  a  world  sits  at  the 
Saviour's  feet  clothed  and  in  its  right  mind,  and  will 
you,  in  the  very  midst  of  the  conflict,  allow  yourself 
to  be  so  occupied  with  trifles  as  to  be  unaware  of  the 
glorious  movement  ?     Shall  a  great  multitude  of  our 
lost  race,  a  multitude  which  no  man  can  number,  enter 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  with  songs  and  crowns  of  eter- 
nal glory,  and  you  be  cast  out,  because  you  luould  not 
think  of   the  things  that  belong  to  your  peace?     I 
conjure  you  to  meditate  upon  the  position  which  you 
occupy.     If  the  scheme  is  too  large  for  your  faith, 
God  will  not  belittle  it,  to  please  you.     Your  views 
must  be  enlarged  to  meet  it.     If  its  results  are  too 
glorious  for  your  unused  vision,  he  will  not  dim  its 
brightness  for  your  accommodation.     As  soon  would 
he  veil  the  sun,  and  diminish  his  benign  influences,  to 
suit  it  to  the  disordered  organs  of  an  individual.     You 
must  seek  instruction ;  anoint  your  eyes  with  eye- 
salve,  that  you  may  see.     If  you  think  that  the  plan 
of  salvation  ought  to  be  a  compulsory  scheme,  making 
its  blessings  to  possess  the  nature  of  a  necessity,  and 
rendering  misery  impossible,  yet  God  will  not  divest 
his  government  of  the  freedom  and  voluntariness  that 
belongs  to  it,  to  suit  himself  to  your  metaphysical 
difiiculties  and  objections.     You  can  have  no  excuse 
for  living  in  the  neglect  of  this  grer.t  salvation.     Your 
position,  in  respect  to  it,  is  very  different  from  those 
who  lived  during  the  preparatory  period,  before  the 
coming  of  the  Messiah.     Thev  saw  onlv  the  morning 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  127 

star,  or  the  early  dawn.  You  bask  in  the  broad  sun- 
light. Christ  has  been  exhibited  as  the  Lamb  of  God. 
His  bleeding  sacrifice  has  made  such  an  appeal  as  was 
never  known  before  his  advent.  His  profound,  wise^ 
sweet  instructions  have  a  claim  upon  you,  such  as  the 
law  and  the  prophets  never  exhibited.  His  resurrec- 
tion and  ascension  have  introduced  a  new  and  won= 
derfully  attractive  interest.  His  Holy  Spirit  has  been 
sent  to  speak  to  your  heart.  He  will  come  to  judg- 
ment. You  shall  stand  before  him.  Beware,  then^ 
beware  how  you  treat  this  great  salvation. 


SEEMON  VII. 

THE  GREAT  SALVATION — THE  ESCAPE. 

MOW  SHALL  WE  ESCAPE,  IF  AVE  NEGLECT  SO  GREAT  SALVATION? 

Heb.  II.  3. 

In  addressing  you  from  this  text  on  a  former  oc- 
casion, I  invited  your  attention  to  the  greatness  of 
the  Christian  salvation.  Let  me  now  offer  some  sug- 
gestions in  relation  to  the  impossibility  of  escaping  a 
fearful  doom,  except  by  carefully  availing  ourselves 
of  the  advantages  of  this  great  schem.e  of  mercy  and 
grace. 

By  a  system  of  beautiful  analogies,  those  great 
principles  that  come  into  action  in  securing  our  ever- 
lasting well-being,  are  continually  exercised  in  rela- 
tion to  our  ordinary  daily  interests.  We  are  familiar 
with  the  idea  of  danger,  because  we  are  constantly 
exposed  to  it.  Our  fears  are  addressed  daily.  "We 
lose  property,  friends,  reputation,  and  health.  Our 
very  life  is  in  constant  jeopardy.  These  dangers  often 
exist  unseen.  Sometimes  they  are  suddenly  revealed 
because  immediately  impending.  Sometimes  the}''  are 
made  to  appear  with  a  fearful  clearness,  though  lying 
yet  far  in  the  future.     By  a  simihir  influence  of  sur- 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  129 

rouncling  circumstances,  "we  are  made  familiar  with 
the  idea  of  escape.  Sometimes  we  see  no  escape  from 
an  impending  evih  We  are  apt,  however,  in  such  a 
case,  to  look  back  upon  the  past,  and  to  indulge  in 
vain  regrets  that  we  had  not  earlier  taken  wise  pre- 
cautions, and  avoided  what,  by  our  neglect,  has  be- 
come inevitable.  How  wisely  has  God  thus  prepared 
us  to  understand  what  is  meant  by  the  soul's  being 
in  danger ;  a  method  of  escape,  and  the  possibility  of 
so  neglecting  the  means  of  escape  as  to  render  our 
final  doom  inevitable.  As  preliminary  to  a  practical 
consideration  of  this  subject,  let  us  dwell  for  a  few 
moments,  on  the  nature  and  reality  of  the  danger 
referred  to  in  the  text.  If  you  have  fled  to  Christ 
for  refuge,  you  are  safe.  He  is  a  covert  from  the 
storm.  But  if  you  have  not  fled  to  Christ,  you  are 
in  danger.  You  are  in  danger  of  becoming  confirmed 
in  the  habit  of  sin,  and  of  rejecting  the  gospel  until 
you  are  totally  insensible  to  its  claims.  You  are  in 
danger  of  imbibing  such  feelings  in  relation  to  the 
Christian  salvation  that  its  claims  shall  become  more 
and  more  repulsive  to  you.  You  are  in  danger  of 
being  abandoned  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  of  being 
given  over  to  a  reprobate  mind.  You  are  in  danger 
of  dying  suddenly  in  your  sins.  You  are  in  danger 
of  going  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ  unpardoned 
and  guilty;  of  standing  there,  like  the  man  who  had 
not  on  the  wedding  garment,  speechless.  You  are  in 
danger  of  losing  your  soul.  These  dangers  are  as 
real  as  the  danger  of  losing  property,  reputation. 


130  SERMON  vir. 

friends,  health,  and  life.  Some  of  them  you  have 
experienced.  You  have  actually  lost  moral  sensibility, 
susceptibility  of  being  impressed  by  the  gospel. 
Perhaps  you  have  lost  the  habit  of  prayer,  and  of 
serious  contemplation  of  your  spiritual  interests. 
You  may  have  less  solicitude  for  your  salvation  than 
formerly.  Why  may  not  the  danger  of  losing  the 
soul  be  real?  Do  you  say  you  cannot  make  it  seem 
so  ?  There  is  a  similar  difficulty  in  making  the 
danger  of  a  premature  death  seem  real.  Y^et,  if  you 
^ill  reflect  on  it,  the  difficulty  may  be  in  a  great 
measure  removed.  Reflect  on  the  frailty  of  your  body, 
the  influence  of  disease  on  it ;  the  fact  that  the  great 
proportion  of  the  race  are  dying  prematurely.  Think 
of  the  disease  of  your  father  or  mother,  of  the  brother 
whose  eyes  you  closed.  Survey  the  monuments  of 
death.  Let  your  mind  take  time  to  ponder  these  in- 
teresting and  solemn  realities,  and  you  will  feel  a 
growing  assurance  of  your  own  mortality,  and  that 
there  is  a  reality  in  your  exposure  to  death.  So,  if 
you  will  think  of  it ;  if  you  will  read  the  teachings 
of  Christ  with  respect  to  men's  dying  in  their  sins, 
with  respect  to  the  worth  of  the  soul ;  and  ponder  his 
solemn  inquiry.  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall 
gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul,  you  will 
perceive  the  reality  of  your  danger.  Equally  fami- 
liar are  we,  with  the  idea  of  escape.  There  is 
scarcely  one  of  all  our  earthly  interests,  the  ruin  of 
which  has  not  at  some  time  seemed  inevitable. 
When  the  possessions  of  men  are  preserved  to  them, 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  131 

there  have  been  seasons  in  which  many  have,  for  a 
time,  seen  nothing  but  bankruptcy  before  them. 
They  have  been  delivered  from  ruin  by  a  mere  escape. 
What  hair-breadth  escapes  can  almost  every  man  who 
has  a  good  character  relate  in  respect  to  its  preservation. 
What  temptations  beset  you  in  youth  !  How  many 
of  your  companions  fell  under  them.  It  is  amazing 
to  any  man  of  good  moral  character,  who  has  arrived 
at  the  age  of  fifty,  to  look  back  and  reckon  up  his 
acquaintances  that  have  made  shipwreck  of  character, 
and  sunk  in  infamy  and  ruin.  Then,  you  can  see 
special  temptations  from  which  you  were  delivered,  and 
many  a  man  of  good  character,  is  overwhelmed  when 
he  thinks  how  he  was  carried  round  and  round  on  the 
wdiirlpool  of  dissipation,  and  yet  escaped  being  drawn 
down  into  the  engulphing  flood.  There  are  few,  of  an 
advanced  age,  or  even  in  middle  life,  that  cannot  look 
back  to  tlie  most  narrow  and  surprising  escapes  from 
death.  The  idea  of  escape  is  thus  rendered  familiar, 
and  God  has  made  use  of  this  idea  in  revealing  a 
method  of  deliverance  from  the  fearful  dangers  to 
which  the  soul  is  exposed.  But  the  text  plainly  in- 
timates that  the  great  salvation  is  a  sure  method  of 
escape.  So  our  Saviour  has  taught  us  elsewhere. 
He  has  represented  himself  as  being  the  friend  of 
sinners.  He  has  evinced  that  friendship,  by  making 
the  greatest  sacrifice  on  their  behalf.  He  came  to  our 
world  from  love  to  men.  He  befriended  the  most  lowly 
and  the  most  guilty.  He  forgave  every  sincere  peni- 
tent, relieved  every  miserable  suppliant  for  his  favor. 


132  SERMON  VII. 

He  was  accessible  to  all  classes,  and  he  assures  us 

that  whosoever  comes  to  him,  he  will  in  nowise  cast 

out.     He  invites  the  weary  and  heavy  laden  to  come 

to  him,  and  promises  rest  to   all  such.     Whosoever 

will  confide  in  him   as  their  friend  and  Saviour,  he 

assures  us  shall  not  perish  but  receive  everlasting  life. 

Now  it  is  in  full  view  of  these  assumed  truths,  that 

the  inquiry  of  the  text  is  pressed  upon  us.     It  is   as 

if  the  apostle  had  said  :   "  So  much  I  assume."     We 

are  in  danger ;  in  danger  of  losing  everlasting  life, 

of  sinking  down  into  eternal  death.     If  we  are  ever 

saved,  it  will  be  by  a  mere  escape  from  this  terrific 

jeopardy.     Yet  there  is  a  system  of  grace  provided, 

a  system  most  ample  and  free.     A  system  such  that 

no  man  can  be  lost  who  will  properly  avail  himself  of 

it.      But  suppose  you  neglect  it,  of  what  possible 

advantage  will  it  be  to  you  ?     Is  it  of  any  use  that 

rich  stores  of  provisions  are  brought  to  you  while  in 

a  state  of  starvation,  if  you  will  not  eat   of  them  ? 

Suppose  the  most  nutritious  viands  are  profi'ered  to 

you  in  a  kind  and  even  tempting  manner.     They  are 

brought  to  you  in  a  service  of  silver,  presented  by  the 

hand  of  friendship,  and  accompanied  with  tones  of 

love,  saying :  "Eat,  0  friends,  drink,  0  beloved."    Yet 

if  you  ivill  not  partake  of  them,  their  adaptation  to 

your  necessities,  and  the  kindness  with  which  they 

are  profi'ered,  will  be  of  no  avail.     Now  the  provisions 

of  salvation,  through  Christ,  are   made.     They  are 

ample  ;  they  are  free.     But  what  if  you  neglect  them  ? 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  133 

Where  is  any  other  refuge  ?     What  other  ground  have 
you  for  expecting  that  you  shall  escape  at  last? 

Can  you  hope  to  escajje  on  the  ground  of  your  good 
qualities  P  Remember  that  the  Divine  law  requires 
perfect  holiness.  It  is  as  plainly  unsatisfied  in  its 
demand  if  one-half  of  your  actions  are  holy  and  one- 
half  sinful,  as  it  would  be  if  they  were  all  sinful.  It 
no  more  demands  holiness  at  one  moment,  than  it 
demands  it  for  every  other  moment  of  your  existence. 
If  you  sin  at  all,  therefore,  you  fall  under  its  curse. 
But,  besides  this,  you  ought  to  remember  that  sin 
cuts  you  off  from  spiritual  communion  with  God,  and 
without  that  spiritual  communion  your  sin  is  per- 
petuated, and  you  are  left  to  a  sinful  unspiritual  state 
of  mind.  Let  me  ask  you,  then,  are  you  not  con- 
scious of  living  without  God  in  the  world ;  of  deriving 
your  happiness  from  the  things  that  are  seen  and 
temporal,  rather  than  from  communion  with  your 
heavenly  Father?  Do  you  not  know,  with  an  intui- 
tive certainty,  that  you  are  a  miserable  sinner  ?  How, 
then,  can  you  expect  to  escape  on  the  ground  of  the 
excellency  of  your  character?  Is  your  character 
purer  and  better  before  God,  than  was  that  of  the 
apostle  Paul?  Yet  he  would  glory  only  in  the  cross 
of  Christ,  and  hoped  to  stand  before  God  in  peace 
because  we  have  forgiveness  through  the  blood  of 
Christ,  and  counted  himself  totally  unworthy  of  the 
Divine  favor.  The  saints  in  heaven  are  represented 
as  clothed  in  garments  purified  and  made  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb.  They  sing  praises  to  him  who 
12 


134  SERMON  Yll, 

redeemed  them  to  God,  and  cast  their  crowns  at  the 
feet  of  the  Redeemer,  as  signifying  that  they  are  in- 
debted to  him  for  them.  Do  you  seriously  think  that 
you  can  escape  the  doom  of  the  lost,  without  wearing 
the  same  blood-washed  robes,  and  joining  in  the  same 
song,  and  casting  down  your  crown  in  token  of 
acknowledgment  of  your  dependence  on  Christ.  The 
most  pious  and  devout  Christians  have  often  doubted, 
notwithstanding  their  attainments  in  Christian  virtue, 
whether  they  should  find  acceptance  with  God;  and 
indeed  we  are  plainly  taught  that  the  righteous  are 
scarcely  saved.  Can  you  hope,  then,  that,  by  the 
superiority  of  your  character,  you  can  escape  the 
doom  of  the  lost? 

Can  you  liope  to  escape  by  the  cultivation  of  the 
sentiments  of  natural  religion?  There  is  something 
in  our  nature  that  may  be  termed  the  religious  pro- 
pensity. Just  as  we  are  constituted  for  the  exercise 
of  domestic  affections,  such  as  parental  and  filial  love, 
and  as  we  are  constituted  to  exercise  emotions  of 
taste,  when  we  look  out  upon  the  beauties  of  the 
physical  world,  so  we  are  constituted  to  venerate,  to 
worship,  a  superior  being.  Many  have  been  led  to 
suppose  from  this  circumstance  that  all  men  are 
religious  by  nature,  in  the  only  sense  in  which  any 
one  is  religious,  and  that  the  difference  that  exists  in 
religious  character  depends  upon  the  development 
and  cultivation  of  this  propensity.  Hence  we  often 
meet  with  the  most  complacent  remarks  made  by 
worldly  men  in  respect  to  the   emotions  they  have 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  135 

experienced  when  visiting  ancient  cathedrals  and 
witnessing  religious  ceremonies  performed  with  a 
grand  and  imposing  magnificence.  And  hence,  too, 
the  prevailing  belief  that  those  who  worship  heathen 
gods  are  accepted  as  possessing  true  religious  senti- 
ments. But  let  us  inquire — may  not  the  religious 
propensity  be  perverted  ?  May  not  a  man  give  the 
glory  that  belongs  to  God  to  graven  images  ?  May 
he  not  bow  down  to  vile  reptiles,  as  did  the  Egyptians, 
and  be  degraded  just  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of 
his  worship,  and  the  cultivation  of  this  perverted 
propensity?  May  he  not  regard  a  wafer  as  con- 
taining a  mysterious  power,  and  bow  before  it  and 
substitute  the  mutterings  of  a  puerile  superstition  in 
the  place  of  an  intelligent  and  affectionate  and  re- 
verent address  to  the  true  God  in  his  revealed  char- 
acter through  the  mediation  of  the  Lord  Jesus?  Or 
may  he  not,  even,  put  a  reverent  behavior  in  the 
sanctuary  in  the  place  of  the  spirit  of  adoption,  and 
endeavor  to  substitute  this  reverence  for  a  sincere 
and  unshaken  purpose  to  do  the  will  of  his  heavenly 
Father?  The  demand  made  upon  us  in  the  sacred 
Scriptures  is  a  demand  for  a  new  quality  of  religion, 
and  not  an  increased  quantity  of  natural  religious 
sentiment.  God  requires  not  merely  that  we  should 
worship,  but  that  we  should  worship  him^  and  that 
we  should  worship  him  in  his  true  character — in 
spirit  and  in  truth.  Let  me  make  this  point  plain, 
if  possible.  There  is  scarcely  anything,  in  my  opin- 
ion, in  which  men  of  a  worldly  spirit  more  readily 


136  SERMON  VII. 

deceive  themselves,  than  in  placing  a  false  estimate 
upon  what  is  sometimes  called  religious  sentiment.  I 
cite  as  an  instance  of  this  the  opening  stanza  of  Pope's 
universal  prayer.     Observe  the  language : — 

"Father  of  all,  in  every  age, 
In  every  clime  adored, 
By  saint,  by  savage,  or  by  sage, 
Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord/' 

The  prominent  idea  of  this  verse  is  simply  this — 
"worship  is  rendered  to  God  acceptably  by  men  of  all 
different  characters  of  religion.  God  is  worshipped 
by  saints  with  the  most  enlightened  views — by  savages 
under  the  forms  of  heathen  idolatry,  and  by  philoso- 
phers in  the  study  of  his  works.  It  is  intimated 
that  they  all  mean  substantially  the  same  thing,  and 
render  to  God  a  service  which  he  will  accept  because 
it  is  characterized  by  devout  sentiments.  The  mis- 
take is  an  extremely  gross  one,  and  the  ground  of  it 
very  obvious.  Virtue  does  not  consist  in  the  exercise 
of  any  propensity,  but  in  its  being  cherished  in  its 
proper  relations.  There  is  a  propensity  in  our  nature 
which  leads  to  filial  affection  and  deference.  If  a 
child  exercises  that  propensity  in  a  proper  manner 
towards  a  good  parent,  he  is  a  dutiful  child;  but  if  he 
allow  himself  to  be  led  away  from  a  good  father,  in 
the  bestowment  of  that  affection  upon  a  vicious  old 
man  who  promises  him  sinful  indulgence,  his  affection 
towards  this  Avicked  and  unprincipled  substitute  is  not 
filial  virtue.  So  if  the  same  propensity  which  was 
intended  to  awaken    exalted   sentiments  of  homage 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  137 

towards   the    Supreme    Being   be    directed   towards 
another  being,  or  towards  God  in  name,  with  a  char- 
acter radically  different  from  that  which  he  has  re- 
vealed to  us,  there  is  plainly  no  true  piety  in  such  an 
exercise.     If  that  connubial  love  which  hallows  the 
matrimonial    relation,    be    directed    away  from    its 
proper  object  and  fixed  upon  another,  although  the 
propensity  is  the  same,  this  allowed  vagrancy  becomes 
a  crime.     Hence  the  inspired  writers  refer  to  this 
very  idea  as  a  means  of  exemplifying  the  sinfulness  of 
a  wrongly  directed  exercise  of  the  religious  sentiment. 
They  represent  God  as  having  espoused  his  church, 
and  censure  her  defection,  her  going  after  idols,  as  the 
grossest    conjugal   infidelity.     And   hence   also   the 
apostle  James  refers  to  this  very  imagery  to  reprove 
the    guilt   of  misdirected    spiritual   affections.     His 
language  of  rebuke  is  strong:  "Ye  adulterers  and 
adulteresses,  know  ye  not  that  the  friendship  of  the 
world  is  enmity  with  God.     Whosoever,  therefore,  will 
be  the  friend  of  the  world  is  the  enemy  of  God." 
According  to  these  views,  the  love  and  worship  of 
Jove  are  not  an  acceptable  service  to  the  Father  of 
all.     On  the  contrary,  a  misdirected  devotion,  like  a 
misdirected  filial  or  connubial  affection  is  vile  in  pro- 
portion to  its  intensity.     No  cultivation  of  the  senti- 
ments of  natural  religion,  then,  can  prepare  you  for 
communion  with  the  true  God,  or  secure  your  escape 
from  the  most  dreadful  inflictions  of  his  displeasure. 
Can  you  hope  to  escape  hy  some  other  provision  of 
mercy  if  you  neglect  the  great  salvation  revealed  in  the 

12* 


138  SERMON  VII. 

gospel.  The  testimony  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures  is 
very  full  and  explicit  on  this  point.  Our  Saviour  says : 
"If  ye  believe  not  that  I  am  he,"  that  is,  if  you  do  not 
receive  me  as  the  true  Messiah,  "ye  shall  die  in  your 
sins,  and  whither  I  go  ye  cannot  come."  It  is  clearly 
taught  in  this  passage,  that  those  who  neglect  the 
salvation  provided  in  the  gospel  shall  die  in  a  guilty 
and  unpardoned  state,  and  that  such  shall  never  enter 
heaven.  There  is  a  class  of  persons  spoken  of  in 
another  place,  of  whom  it  is  said  that  they  shall  never 
have  forgiveness,  neither  in  this  world  nor  in  that 
which  is  to  come.  How  certainly  are  such  cut  off 
from  the  hope  of  heaven  !  In  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
we  are  told  that  Peter  said  to  the  Jews,  in  speaking 
of  Christ :  "Neither  is  there  salvation  in  any  other: 
for  there  is  no  other  name  under  heaven  given  among 
men  whereby  we  must  be  saved."  Here  it  is  plainly 
asserted  that  salvation  cannot  be  found  except  in  Jesus 
Christ.  If  that  salvation  be  neglected,  therefore, 
there  is  left  no  ground  of  hope.  There  is  no  escape, 
if  we  neglect  this  great  salvation.  In  our  text,  there 
is  a  comparison  instituted  between  the  effect  of  violat- 
ing the  law  and  neglecting  the  gospel.  In  the  pre- 
ceding context,  it  is  said:  "  The  word  spoken  by  angels 
(that  is  the  law  published  at  Sinai)  was  steadfast,  and 
every  transgression  and  disobedience  received  a  just 
recompense  of  reward."  Then  the  text  is  introduced 
as  an  argument  a  fortiori:  "  How  shall  we  escape,  if 
we  neglect  so  great  salvation;  which  at  the  first 
began  to  be  spoken  by  the  Lord,  and  w^as  confirmed 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  139 

unto  US  by  them  that  heard  him.''  The  force  of  the 
argument  is  this:  The  transgressors  of  the  law  were 
signally  punished.  Escape  was  impossible.  But  this 
salvation  imposes  higher  obligations  than  the  law. 
The  law  was  announced  by  angels,  the  gospel  was  pro- 
claimed by  the  Lord  from  heaven.  The  law  could  be 
repaired,  and  was  repaired  by  the  atoning  sacrifice  of 
Christ.  But,  when  the  remedy  for  deliverance  from 
the  penalty  of  a  violated  law  is  despised,  neglected, 
there  can  be  no  escape.  A  similar  argument,  founded 
on  this  very  comparison,  is  adduced  in  the  12th  chapter 
of  the  same  epistle.  "See  that  ye  refuse  not  him 
that  speaketh ;  for  if  they  escaped  not  who  refused  him 
that  spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not  we  escape 
if  we  turn  away  from  him  that  speaketh  from  heaven." 
In  Heb.  x.  26-29,  we  have  a  still  stronger  and  clearer 
expression  of  the  same  truth.  Let  me  recite  to  you 
the  whole  passage.  "  For  if  we  sin  wilfully  after  that 
we  have  received  the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  there  re- 
maineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sins;"  that  is  to  say,  there 
will  be  no  new  provision  made ;  "  there  remaineth  no 
more  sacrifice  for  sins,  but  a  certain  fearful  looking 
for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation,  which  shall  de- 
vour the  adversaries.  He  that  despised  Moses'  law, 
died  without  mercy  under  two  or  three  witnesses  :  of 
how  much  sorer  punishment,  suppose  ye,  shall  he  be 
thought  worthy,  who  hath  trodden  under  foot  the  Son 
of  God,  and  hath  counted  the  blood  of  the  covenant, 
wherewith  he  was  sanctified,  an  unholy  thing,  and  hath 
done  despite  unto  the  spirit  of  grace  ?"     Yes,  my  im- 


140  SERMON  VII. 

penitent  friend,  the  gospel  is  the  one  only  remedy. 
You  cannot  escape  an  awful  doom  if  you  neglect  the 
gospel.  The  goodness  of  your  character  will  not  pro- 
tect you.  It  is  madness  to  hope  for  it.  The  most 
pious  Christians  on  earth  have  never  dared  rest  their 
hopes  on  their  personal  goodness.  The  cultivation  of 
the  religious  sentiment  will  not  save  you.  There  will 
be  no  other  provision  made.  Accept  the  proffered 
grace  of  Christ.  ''  He  that  helieveth  shall  be  saved, 
but  he  that  belie veth  not  shall  be  damned." 


SEEMON  YIII. 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION — NEGLECT. 


HOW  SHALL  WE  ESCAPE,  IF  WE  NEGLECT  SO  GREAT  SALVATION. 

Eeh.  II.  3. 


In  two  discourses  previously  delivered  on  this  text, 
I  have  discussed  the  greatness  of  the  Christian  salva- 
tion, and  the  impossibility  of  escaping  a  fearful  doom 
except  by  a  careful  attention  to  the  provisions  of  mercy 
and  grace  in  the  gospel.  One  other  topic  remains, 
the  just  consequences  of  neglect. 

We  are  not  called  upon  to  prove  that  crime  ought 
to  be  punished.  Human  nature  is  so  constituted  that 
no  man  can  avoid  the  conviction  that  it  is  right  to 
follow  some  kinds  of  action  with  an  infliction  of  suf- 
fering. If  one  should  call  in  question  this  principle, 
it  is  only  necessary  that  prowling  assassins  should 
put  his  dearest  friend's  and  his  own  life  in  jeopardy,  or 
that  the  midnight  robber  should  filch  from  him  his 
estate,  and  he  will  immediately  become  the  advocate 
of  retributive  justice.  It  is  very  natural  that  men 
should  see  and  feel  the  propriety  of  penal  inflictions 
in  proportion  as  crimes  are  striking,  and,  in  their 
immediate  consequences  nearly  related  to  theif  indi- 


142  SERMON  VIII. 

vidual  interests.  Yet,  it  often  happens  that  a  less 
striking  injury  is  greatest  in  character,  and  really 
most  deserving  of  punishnient.  If  a  burglar  enter 
your  counting-house  by  false  keys,  and  purloin  a  thou- 
sand dollars,  you  have  a  keen  sense  of  his  ill  desert. 
If  a  gentleman  corrupt  the  moral  principles  of  your 
son  by  leading  him  into  fashionable  vice,  you  are  not 
Apt  to  feel  that  that  same  gentleman  has  inflicted  upon 
you  the  deeper  wrong.  The  injury  is  less  striking  in 
the  manner  of  its  visitation.  In  the  case  of  this  cor- 
rupter of  youth,  no  civil  law  is  violated,  no  sudden 
infraction  of  the  rules  of  courtesy  is  made.  The  evil 
steals  upon  you  by  little  and  little.  Your  censures 
do  not  rest  on  the  tempter  alone,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
burglar.  They  are  distributed  among  several  persons. 
You  justly  blame  your  son  for  yielding  to  the  tempta- 
tion, and  yourself  for  not  having  more  firmly  esta- 
blished him  in  the  principles  of  virtue,  or  for  a  too 
negligent  guardianship  over  him.  In  this  distribution 
of  blame  you  are  likely  to  take  lenient  views  of  the 
very  serpent  that  came  into  your  paradise  and  de- 
stroyed it.  Yet  there  is  no  wrong  ever  inflicted  on  a 
family  that  will  compare  with  corrupting  its  mem- 
bers. 

Some  sins  are  also  under-estimated,  just  because  they 
do  not  appear  in  an  overt  act  upon  which  the  mind 
can  fasten  and  fix  its  censure.  Such  is  that  whole 
class  of  moral  delinquencies  which  consists  in  omissions 
of  duty.  If  a  man  neglect  to  arouse  the  energies  of 
his  being  and  employ  them  in  a  useful  occupation,  he 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  143 

may  seem  to  do  nothing  wrong,  yet  God  has  treated 
such  conduct  as  highly  criminal,  and  has  ordained  that 
he  that  dealeth  with  a  slack  hand  shall  be  punished 
with  the  ills  of  poverty,  and  that  he  that  sleepeth  in 
harvest  shall  be  accounted  as  a  son  that  causeth  shame. 
All  real  good  is  the  product  of  labor.  In  creation, 
and  in  the  operation  of  what  are  termed  the  laws  of 
nature,  God  is  continually  putting  forth  his  energies. 
Our  Saviour  came  to  earth  to  perform  a  work ;  a  great 
work  of  suffering  and  toil ;  a  work  in  which  his  holy 
energies  wrought  vigorously,  till  it  was  accomplished. 
"My  Father,"  says  he,  "worketh  hitherto,  and  I 
work."  All  things  are  full  of  labor.  The  productions 
of  the  earth  are  by  the  throes  and  throbbings  of  nature. 
Redemption  is  wrought  out  by  the  energies  of  one 
travailing  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  mighty  to 
save.  The  regeneration  of  the  soul,  is  by  the  inener- 
gizing  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  means  of 
grace  are  produced  by  the  sympathies  of  the  church 
with  her  Head,  by  which  her  members  are  workers 
together  with  him.  All  the  beneficence  in  the  uni- 
verse is  by  action,  and  hence  God  has  established  a 
universal  law  that  activity  must  be  encouraged,  and 
that  any  interest  may  be  lost  by  simple  neglect. 
Thus,  in  our  text,  the  Apostle  has  intimated  that  the 
salvation  of  the  soul  may  be  lost  by  mere  negligence. 

My  object  shall  be  to  evince  the  reasonable- 
ness OF  THIS  arrangement,  TO  SHOW  YOU  THAT  IT  IS 
RIGHT,  THAT  IT  IS  ACCORDING  TO  OBVIOUS  AND  ADMIT- 


144  SERMON  VIII. 

TED  PRINCIPLES,  THAT   MEN  SHOULD  BE   LOST  IF  THEY 
NEGLECT  THE  GREAT  SALVATION  OP  THE  GOSPEL. 

No  blessing  can  be  of  great  value  unless  it  be 
highly  estimated.  It  must  be  looked  upon  by  the 
mind  as  a  treasure,  or  cherished  with  a  fond  affection 
ere  it  can  minister  enjoyment.  But  the  estimate  of 
a  blessing  depends  greatly  on  a  perception  of  the 
necessity  of  exertion  to  attain  it.  The  first  thing  to  be 
done  for  achieving  any  practical  end  is  the  securing  of 
attention  to  its  real  importance.  Earnest  endeavor 
is  always  preceded  by  a  perception  of  the  real  or  sup- 
posed reason  for  exertion.  The  incipiency  of  every 
important  undertaking,  therefore,  is  attention  to  the 
subject.  Hence,  if  you  would  secure  any  great  effort 
on  the  part  of  others  you  always  begin  with  solicit- 
ing their  attention.  If  the  interest  be  truly  import- 
ant you  are  confident  of  success  only  in  proportion 
as  you  can  awaken  thought.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
you  would  thwart  any  great  movement,  no  other 
means  are  so  effectual  as  the  diversion  of  the  minds 
of  the  principal  agents  from  the  subject,  the  lulling 
of  the  powers  of  attention  to  indolent  repose. 

This  law  of  our  nature,  by  which  attention  is  neces- 
sary to  success,  and  according  to  which  neglect 
secures  defeat,  is  universal.  No  interest  is  too  great 
to  be  governed  by  it,  none  too  minute  to  be  subject 
to  it.  If  you  will  but  have  a  honeysuckle  twine  it- 
self over  your  window,  and  display  its  graces  to  your 
eye,  and  breathe  into  your  chamber  its  fragrance,  you 
must  think  of  it.     You  must  dwell  upon  the  degree 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.        '  145 

of  pleasure  which  it  will  afford,  and  upon  the  means 
of  securing  it.  If  you  will  accumulate  an  ample  estate, 
your  mind  must  be  awakened  in  some  degree  to  the 
advantages  of  affluence.  You  must  see  your  comfort- 
able mansion  rising  in  prospect,  your  abundant  sup- 
plies for  coming  want,  your  elegant  gratifications  of 
taste,  your  lavish  hospitalities,  or  generous  acts  of 
beneficence,  or  your  enjoyment  of  the  consequence 
which  wealth  will  give  you  in  the  estimation  of  the 
world.  Some,  or  all  of  these  desired  advantages 
must  be  looked  upon,  and  then  you  must  perceive  how 
it  is  that  eating  the  bread  of  carefulness  and  employ- 
ing the  hand  of  diligence  will  secure  worldly  fortune. 
Thoughtfulness  in  this  larger  interest  has  precisely 
the  same  relation  to  success  as  it  has  in  securing  the 
lesser  advantage  referred  to  in  the  vine  to  be  trained 
up  to  your  window,  and  neglect  will  be  in  each  case 
alike  fatal  to  the  interest  in  question. 

The  most  important  and  the  smallest  self-culture 
are  subject  to  the  same  law.  If  you  will  attain  the 
comparatively  small  accomplishment  of  an  elegant 
chirography,  you  must  think  of  the  advantages  that 
accrue  from  it.  You  must  feel  the  gratification  of 
taste  or  perceive  its  influence  in  awakening  the  admi- 
ration of  others,  or  its  connection  with  general  im- 
provement. So,  also,  if  you  will  fill  your  mind  with 
ancient  lore,  and  make  it  opulent  in  stores  of  science 
and  various  learning,  your  powers  must  be  summoned 
to  attend  to  the  subject,  and  in  both  cases  alike,  in 
13 


1±6  SERMON  VIIL 

the  smaller  and  the  larger  interest,  a  negligent  inat- 
tention is  the  sure  precursor  of  failure. 

This  arrangement  operates  as  a  constant  encourage- 
ment to  mental  activity.  Why  should  it  not  bear  upon 
the  highest  possible  interest  ?  Why  should  not  thought 
and  attention  be  as  needful  to  the  largest,  as  to  the 
minutest  desirable  objects  ?  Add  another,  then,  to 
the  physical  objects  just  presented.  The  fragrant 
vine  can  afford  you  real  pleasure;  the  affluent  estate 
"with  its  elegant  mansion,  and  full  supplies,  and  means 
of  hospitality  and  beneficence,  can  afford  more  rich 
and  varied  and  permanent  gratification;  the  heavenly 
mansions  in  the  midst  of  a  city  ^vith  golden  pavements 
and  trees  of  unfading  verdure,  a  mansion  in  which 
you  shall  entertain  angelic  companions,  and  through 
the  halls  of  which  entrancing  song  shall  flow,  can 
afford  still  higher  and  purer,  and  more  enduring  enjoy- 
ment. Can  any  good  reason  be  shown  why  these 
should  not  all  alike  demand  attention — why  they 
should  not  all  alike  be  liable  to  be  lost  by  neglect  ? 
If  each  of  the  first  two  is  a  premium  to  mental 
activity,  why  should  not  the  latter  be  so  too  ?  The 
fact  that  an  ample  fortune  affords  greater  and  more 
lasting  good  than  the  fragrant  vine  is  no  reason  why 
the  larger  and  more  enduring  blessing  should  not  de- 
pend on  thought  and  attention,  and  be  equally  liable 
to  be  lost  by  neglect.  The  greater  superiority  and 
endurance  of  the  heavenly  treasures  suggest  no  reason 
why  they  too  should  not  demand  thought  and  be  ex- 
posed to   loss   from  the  same  cause,   from  neglect. 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  147 

We  can  see  no  reason  why  man's  moral  agency  should 
not  be  commensurate  with  his  being,  and  have  respect 
to  all  conceivable  blessings,  great  and  small,  tempo- 
rary and  eternal. 

By  parity  of  reasoning  it  is  manifest  that  the 
mind's  attention  is  alike  necessary  to  the  attainment 
of  subjective  good,  whether  it  be  of  higher  or  lower 
degree,  of  briefer  or  more  enduring  continuance.  You 
must  give  some  thought  to  attain  the  smallest  personal 
accomplishment.  You  cannot  acquire  a  graceful  pen- 
manship without  first  giving  it  importance  in  your 
mind's  estimate.  You  cannot  become  an  accomplished 
artist,  and  place  the  productions  of  your  pencil,  or 
your  chisel,  by  the  side  of  those  of  the  great  masters, 
without  first  securing,  in  your  own  mind,  a  high  esti- 
mation of  the  value  of  the  attainment.  You  cannot, 
without  attention,  ever  be  led  to  dive  into  profound 
authors  and  bring  up  the  pearls  of  literature,  or  to 
make  bold  incursions  upon  the  realms  of  nature,  and 
come  back  like  a  successful  warrior  laden  with  the 
spoils  of  ravished  provinces.  You  must  first  summon 
your  powers  to  think  of  the  importance  of  such  achieve- 
ments. Indeed,  the  greater  the  mental  accomplish- 
ment which  you  seek  the  more  earnest  is  the  attention 
which  it  demands.  Now,  what  reason  drawn  from 
earth  or  heaven  can  be  shown,  why  those  higher 
qualities  of  our  spiritual  being,  such  as  love  to  God 
and  hearts  attuned  to  his  praise,  and  affections  that 
ally  one  to  holy  beings  forever,  should  not,  also,  de- 
mand attention,  and  be  liable  to  be  lost  by  neglect  ? 
Let  these  interests,  rising  one  above  another  in  ira- 


148  SERMON  VIII. 

portance,  be  <arranged  in  order,  as  we  just  now  pre- 
sented them  as  objects  of  desire.  Here  is  a  small  per- 
sonal accomplishment,  an  elegant  chirograph  j ;  a  larger 
one,  extraordinary  attainment  in  the  higher  walks 
of  art,  and  in  liberal  learning;  a  still  larger,  the  ac- 
quisition of  those  qualities  and  relations  which  may 
be  attained  through  a  mediator,  and  which  clothe  the 
soul  in  robes  of  eternal  honor.  Can  any  reason  be 
shown  why  attention  should  not  be  demanded  alike 
for  all  three  of  these  interests  ?  Why  they  should 
not  all  alike  be  liable  to  be  lost  by  neglect  ?  The 
larger  interests  of  general  learning  do  not  less  require 
attention  than  the  attainment  of  an  inferior  art. 
Neglect  of  the  greater  is  as  sure  a  precursor  of  failure 
as  neglect  of  the  less.  The  same  principle  is  only 
carried  out  when  men  lose  their  eternal  well-being  by 
neglecting  to  secure  the  spiritual  qualities  that  are 
inseparable  from  it. 

But  if  the  attainment  of  good  is  justly  made  to  de- 
pend on  the  arousing  of  the  attention,  on  a  quickening 
of  the  mental  energies,  to  perceive  its  value,  not  less 
does  it  depend  on  continuous  endeavor.  You  must 
think  of  that  fragrant  vine  not  only,  you  must  also 
exercise  a  care  about  its  planting,  its  nutriment,  and 
its  training. 

Continuous  labor  is  necessary  both  to  the  well  de- 
veloping of  the  object  and  the  fitting  of  your  own 
mind  to  derive  pleasure  from  it.  It  is  true,  that  all 
agreeable  objects  afford  some  degree  of  delight,  as 
affording  the  first  stimulus  of  endeavor  either  in  their 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  149 

production  or  in  augmenting  hj  culture  our  own  sus- 
ceptibilities for  enjoying  them.  But,  there  is  a  pecu- 
liar relish  belonging  to  an  object  which  you  have 
yourself  had  an  agency  in  producing.  That  vine 
possesses  a  peculiar  interest  because  your  own  right 
hand  planted  it.  Its  curvatures  and  twinings  seem 
more  graceful  because  you  trained  them.  Its  flowers 
look  out  from  among  the  green  leaves  with  smiles, 
and  seem  to  bid  you  good-morrow  as  their  patron, 
because  your  fingers  placed  them  in  such  tasteful  col- 
locations, and  your  quickened  fancy  can  easily  think 
of  the  dew-drops  upon  their  petals  as  tears  of  grati- 
tude for  your  affectionate  care.  The  fragrance  seems 
sweeter  because  Avithout  your  agency  it  had  never 
existed. 

It  is  not  less  evident  that  continuous  labor  is  neces- 
sary to  the  production  of  v/ealth,  nor  that  industry 
and  frugality,  in  its  acquisition,  are  the  m^eans  of 
enhancing  its  enjoyment.  That  house  has  richer 
associations  of  sweet  home  connected  with  it  if  it  be 
the  purchase  of  your  industry,  and  more  still  if  you 
contrived  its  architectural  arrangements  and  labored 
personally  in  the  superintendence  of  its  erection. 
That  furniture  is  more  pleasing  to  a  family  if  it  bear 
the  marks  of  the  taste  and  skilful  arrangement  of  its 
female  members,  and  especially  if  every  apartment  be 
embellished  with  the  products  of  their  industry.  The 
enjoyment  of  these  objects,  and  their  possession,  de- 
pend on  protracted  endeavor.  They  are  the  rewards 
of  industry,  premiums  for  the  encouragement  of  labor 


150  SERMON  VIII. 

"We  never  think  of  these  as  hard  conditions.  Yet 
they  are  indispensable.  If  they  be  pretermitted  the 
rewards  are  lost.  Kow  place  in  the  same  range  with 
these  as  before  the  heavenly  mansion,  and  it  is  obvious 
that  the  same  law  ought  to  belong  to  the  higher  ob- 
ject, as  to  the  two  inferior  ones.  You  have  again 
(the  vine)  the  earthly  estate,  and  the  heavenly  riches. 
"We  can  see  no  reason  why  the  greater  should  not 
depend  on  strenuous  endeavor  as  well  as  the  two  lesser 
interests.  The  enjoyments  of  the  heavenly  state 
though  in  the  most  important  sense  a  gratuity,  as 
purchased  by  the  sacrifice  of  our  Redeemer,  are  never- 
theless enhanced  by  the  strenuousness  of  the  effort 
made  necessary  for  their  attainment. 

You  know  that  the  apostle  Paul  has  represented 
the  securing  of  salvation  by  the  achievement  of  the 
successful  competitor  in  the  Olympic  games.  The 
Christian  is  represented  as  contending  for  a  heavenly 
crown.  He  must  practise  a  self-denial  analogous  to 
the  severe  discipline  of  one  preparing  for  the  race, 
when  he  keeps  his  body  under  by  restraining  all  ener- 
vating passions  by  taking  a  simple  diet,  and  by  those 
athletic  exercises  which  turn  all  his  corporeal  energies 
into  one  direction.  He  must  circumspectly  survey 
the  dangers  of  his  career,  and  stimulate  his  energies 
by  a  salutary  apprehension,  and  contend  with  manly 
vigor  till  the  crown  is  attained.  The  competitor  for 
the  earthly  crown  summoned  all  his  powers,  divested 
himself  of  entangling  garments,  and  united  caution 
with  earnestnesslest  heshould  fall,  and  then  contended 


THE  GREAT  SALVATIOK.  151 

"Vvitii  such  competition  that  he  could  barely  throw  him- 
self past  the  goal  covered  with  sweat  and  dust  and 
ready  to  faint  for  joy,  if  he  escaped  being  made  a 
cast-away,  if  he  received  the  crown.  Such  earnest- 
ness, such  strenuousness  and  protraction  of  endeavor 
are  made  necessary  to  the  attainment  of  a  crown  of 
glory. 

The  impression  made  by  this  representation  might 
be  deepened  by  dwelling  upon  another  class  of  images 
adduced  by  the  same  apostle  to  evince  the  necessity 
of  earnest  endeavor  to  secure  the  bliss  of  heaven. 
The  life  of  the  Christian  is  compared  to  a  warfare. 
He  is  presented  to  us  as  covered  with  a  complete  coat 
of  mail.  His  antagonists  are  principalities  and  powers. 
He  is  surrounded  with  the  strategy  of  infernal  cun- 
ning, and  assailed  with  darts  of  fire.  When,  howeverj 
the  terrible  missiles  come  thick  and  fast,  the  shield  of 
faith  is  interposed,  and  quenched  are  all  the  fiery 
darts  of  the  adversary.  When  the  battle-axe  of 
Apollyon  is  uplifted,  so  that  the  head  of  his  victim 
seems  about  to  be  cloven  at  a  stroke,  its  edge  is  turned 
by  that  impenetrable  helmet,  the  hope  of  salvation. 
Yet  the  conflict  continues.  The  Christian  warrior  is 
sometimes  seen  with  waving  plume  and  drawn  sword 
charging  the  foe,  and  causing  whole  columns  to  fall 
back  in  confusion.  Sometimes  he  is  seen  retreating. 
Sometimes  he  is  down,  covered  with  dust  and  blood, 
and  groaning  under  the  wounds  he  has  received  ;  anon 
he  is  up,  following  the  Captain  of  his  salvation,  utter- 
ing shouts  of  defiance,  and  easily  hewing  out  for  himself 


152  SERMON  virr. 

a  passage  throngli  the  thickest  ranks  of  the  enemy. 
There  is  no  discharge  in  this  war  while  life  lasts,  but 
when  the  warfare  is  accomplished  he  bears  a  victor's 
palm.  But  his  triumph  is  sweet,  because  his  conflict 
has  been  severe.  The  palm  of  victory  is  valuable 
because  obtained  with  difficulty.  The  righteous  are 
scarcely  saved,  and  the  crown,  the  harp,  the  repose, 
the  purity,  and  the  songs  of  heaven  are  all  enhanced 
in  value  by  the  strenuousncss  of  the  endeavor  by 
which  they  were  obtained. 

And  why  should  it  not  be  so.  The  smallest  of  the 
three  objects  mentioned,  is  rendered  the  more  a  bless- 
ing because  depending  on  labor,  and  because  the 
mind  can  think  of  it  as  a  good  which  had  not  been 
obtained  but  by  exertion.  The  ample  estate  and  its 
comforts  are  proifered  in  such  a  manner  as  to  demand 
exertion,  and  attended  with  such  conditions  that  they 
may  be  lost  by  neglect.  Why  should  not  all  possible 
blessings  be  a  means  of  similar  discipline  ?  Why  should 
not  the  value  of  heaven  be  forever  enhanced  in  the 
mind's  estimate  by  its  being  the  reward  of  strenuous 
exertion,  by  a  keen  and  never-ceasing  remembrance 
of  the  fact,  that  it  might  have  been  lost  by  neglect? 

But  there  is  yet  another  great  end  to  be  achieved 
by  those  arrangements,  according  to  which  blessings 
may  be  secured  through  thoughtfulness  and  exertion, 
and  may  be  lost  by  neglect.  I  mean  a  training  of 
man  to  the  habit  of  forecast,  and  to  a  disciplined  en- 
ergy in  forming  and  executing  lofty  purposes.  Such 
is  the  constitution  with  which  God  has  gifted  us,  that 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  153 

we  find  the  cliief  stimulus  to  exertion  in  the  prospective 
consequences  of  present  action.  You  wouhl  never 
lend  either  thought  or  muscle  to  the  planting  and 
training  of  that  vine,  if  you  did  not  see  it  flourishing 
in  prospect,  and  anticipate  its  fragrance  and  beauty. 
You  would  not  toil  with  patient  industry  and  husband 
your  gains  with  care  if  you  did  not  see  that  accumu- 
lated wealth  would  confer  advantages,  nor  even  then 
would  you  make  exertion  if  you  did  not  believe  that 
these  advantages  would  be  lost  by  neglect.  A  fore- 
casting faith  is  essential  to  the  very  nature  of  the 
principle  motives  to  human  action.  Moses  had  re- 
spect to  the  recompense  of  reward,  when  he  refused 
to  be  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter.  That  is, 
he  saw  the  alternative  before  him.  If  he  preferred 
the  reproach  of  Christ  to  the  treasures  in  Egypt,  he 
foresaw  a  bright  career  of  honor,  a  crown  of  eternal 
glory.  If  he  should  prefer  the  earthly  kingdom, 
and  refuse  to  suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of  God, 
he  saw  that  heaven  would  be  lost.  He  felt' the  power 
of  this  alternative.  He  was  swayed  by  it.  To  sup- 
pose him  acting  without  it,  is  to  suppose  he  is  swayed 
without  the  action  of  any  great  motive. 

Now  we  find  in  fact,  that  God  leaves  men  to  the 
action  of  this  faith  in  all  the  great  interests  of  life, 
and  their  chief  discipline  depends  on  it.  Here  is  a 
man  just  commencing  the  navigation  of  a  ship  be- 
tween two  distant  ports.  His  object  is  gain.  The 
means  by  which  he  expects  success  are,  skill  in  traffick- 
ing, and  a  cheap  transportation  of  his  merchandise. 


154  .  SERMON  virr. 

He  can  pursue  a  circuitous  and  comparatively  safe 
navigation,  and  secure  small  pecuniary  advantage  ; 
he  can  make  a  more  hazardous  voyage  with  the  pros- 
pect of  larger  profits.      God  will  not  interpose  to  in- 
form him  which  course  he  must  take,  much  less  will 
he  compel  him  to  choose  that  which  is  best.     He  in- 
tends that  these  circumstances   shall  discipline   the 
powers  and  draw  out  the  energies  of  the  man.     He 
must  make  his  own  estimate  of  the  value  of  his  life, 
and  of  the  degree  of  jeopardy  to  Vvhich  it  is  to  be  ex- 
posed.    He  must  calculate  the  value  of  his  skill  in 
making  the  more  hazardous  passage.     He  must  bal- 
ance  the  difference  of  his  prospective  gains  against 
the  difference  of  dangers.     In  this  estimate  of  alter- 
natives, and  this  decision  of  a  great  practical  question, 
and  the  enterprise  of  pursuing  the  more  difficult  course 
there  is  a  vast  amount  of  discipline.     If  he  is  wise,  and 
does  not  undertake  more  than  a  man  of  his  powers 
may  hope  to  achieve,  he  is  a  gainer  for  himself,  he 
improves  his  art  for  succeeding  navigators,  he  aug- 
ments the  advantages  of  that  species  of  commeic?. 
If  on  the  other  hand  he  has  made  a  rash  decision,  and 
is  not  equal  to  the  task  which  he  has  undertaken ;  if 
he  finds  himself  on  a  lea  shore  and  loses  his  ship,  his 
cargo,  and  the  lives  of  all  on  board,  God  ^\l\\  not  in- 
terpose by  miracle  to  save  him.     If  he  should  do  this 
in  the  case  of  every  rash  and  foolish  enterprise,  he 
would  be,  in  effect,  offering  a  premium  for  rashness 
and  folly.     He  would  take  away  the  incentive  to  in- 
dependent thinking,  to  caution,  to  enterprise. 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  155 

This  kind  of  discipline  pervades  the  entire  provi- 
dential and  moral  government  of  God.  It  is  not 
limited  to  objects  of  slight  importance.  It  belongs  to 
the  greatest.  It  is  intended  to  qualify  man  for  act- 
ing in  relation  to  high  objects.  It  is  not  limited  by 
the  shortness  of  the  period  in  which  an  enterprise  is  to 
be  accomplished.  It  belongs  to  the  -whole  of  life,  the 
whole  of  eternity.  God  would  form  human  character 
for  the  greatest  undertakings,  for  a  career  of  honor, 
glory,  and  immortality.  He  has  pointed  out  a  course 
of  perfect  safety.  He  has  left  us  free  to  hazard 
everything  by  our  rashness  and  our  untractable  tem- 
per. 

Let  me  now  proceed  to  a  practical  application  of 
this  reasoning.  It  is  not  to  prove  to  you  that  men 
will  be  lost,  if  they  neglect  the  gospel.  Our  text 
teaches  this  doctrine  clearly ;  the  fact  that  God  has 
so  taught,  I  consider  ample  proof  of  the  justice  of 
the  arrano-ement.  I  have  aimed  rather  to  counteract 
that  easy  credulity  by  which  men  hope  to  escape  the 
operations  of  those  principles  in  another  world,  which 
act  on  them  continually  in  this.  Did  you  never  hope, 
my  unconverted  friend,  that  God  would,  by  some 
means,  render  your  eternal  interests  secure  ?  Did 
you  never  fancy  that,  because  this  interest  was  so 
large  and  so  enduring,  God  would  not  intrust  it  to 
your  choice?  That  he  would  not  stake  its  attainment 
on  exertion,  nor  make  it  liable  to  be  lost  by  neglect  ? 
Now  let  me  suggest  some  friendly  cautions  by  asking 
you  to  look  well  to  the  evidence  before   you  trust  to 


156  SERMON  VIII. 

such  a  belief.  What  proof  can  you  adduce  to  show 
that  God  does  not  intend  to  awaken  thousjht,  to  rouse 
the  mental  energies  of  men,  by  making  his  highest 
and  most  enduring  blessings  to  depend  on  attention. 
What  evidence  have  tou  that  he  does  not  desi^jn  to 
employ  such  vast  alternatives  to  give  consequence  to 
vour  intellectual  beinsr?  How  know  tou  that  he 
does  not  consider  neelifrence  so  sreat  an  evil  in  moral 
frovernment  as  to  make  it  worth  while  that  eternal 
death  should  be  its  consequence  ?  He  certainly  has 
not  revealed  to  you  that  eternal  happiness,  like  eter- 
nal existence,  is  secure  without  exerrion  on  your  part. 
The  fact  that  all  his  other  crifts,  small  and  ^reat.  are 
liable  to  be  lost  by  neglect,  certainly  does  not  prove 
that  it  will  not  be   so  with  this.     What   assurance 

have  TOU  that  God  does  not  intend  to  encourage  exer- 
»  t. 

tion  by  making  heavenly  treasure  depend  on  it  as  well 
as  by  connecting  such  conditions  with  inferior  bless- 
ings ?  What  evidence  have  you  to  show  that  God  does 
not  appoint  this  high  discipline  for  immortal  minds  ? 
that  he  is  not  training  men  for  enterprises  so  lofty, 
and  that  anything  short  of  forming  a  decision  and  act- 
ing on  questions  involving  eternal  bliss  and  woe,  are 
adequate  means  of  discipline  ?  I  tliink  you  have  no 
e\"idence  on  these  points  to  sustain  you.  Tour  only 
rational  hope  is  in  an  immediate  and  earnest  atten- 
tion to  the  gospel.  Do  not  let  this  indefinite  hoping 
that  something  else  will  answer  the  desired  end 
deceive  tou.  Xeelect  is  easT.  It  is  like  slumber; 
the  more  profound  it  is  the  less  is  it  observed.     Yet, 


THE  GREAT  SALVATION.  157 

when  you  are  borne  on  a  gentle  current,  you  may 
be  near  the  engulfing  cataract.  If  you  will  be  saved, 
you  must  be  aroused,  you  must  awake  to  right- 
eousness. You  must  make  a  strenuous  endeavor, 
you  must  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come;  you  must 
lay  hold  on  eternal  life:  you  must  strive;  you  must 
agonize  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,  for  many 
will  seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able,  when 
once  the  master  of  the  house  hath  risen  up  and 
shut  to  the  door.  Speak  not  of  your  dependence 
on  Divine  grace  as  a  ground  for  delay.  That  de- 
pendence furnishes  a  reason  for  instant  and  ear- 
nest effort.  Now  Divine  assistance  may  be  afforded. 
Neglect  that  grace  now,  and  another  opportunity  of 
availing  yourself  of  its  proffers  may  not  be  granted. 
Another  admonition  of  the  Spirit  may  never  reach 
you.  Xow  is  the  accepted  time,  now  is  the  day  of 
salvation.  God  will  not  depart  from  those  great  uni- 
versal laws  by  which  he  governs  the  universe,  to  meet 
your  peculiarities.  You  may  lose  any  interest  by 
neglect.  Your  gold  and  silver  may  canker.  Your 
garments  may  be  moth-eaten.  Your  health  may  fail 
through  negligence.  Your  mental  powers  may  grow 
dim,  through  inaction ;  your  spu-itual  faculties  may 
be  covered  all  over  with  mould,  and  penetrated  with  a 
hopeless  decay.  Still,  the  gospel  can  recover  you 
now.  It  is  adapted  to  your  necessities.  But  this 
gospel  can  be  rejected.  Its  gracious  proffers  may 
be  treated  as  a  nullity.  Then,  when  the  storm  of 
U 


158  SERMON  VIII. 

the  final  judgment  shall  gather,  you  may  hear, 
in  its  inarticulate  roar,  a  voice  of  terror  :  '•  How 
can  ye  escape  who  have  neglected  so  great  salva- 
tion ?" 


SERMON   IX 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 

A  CERTAIN  MAN  WENT  DOWN  FEOM  JERUSALEM  TO  JeRICHO,  AND 
FELL  AMONG  THIEVES,  WHICH  STRIPPED  HI3I  OF  HIS  RAIMENT,  AND 
WOUNDED  HIM,  AND  DEPARTED,  LEAVING  HIM  HALE  DEAD.  AnD  BY 
CHANCE  THERE  CAME  DOWN  A  CERTAIN  PRIEST  THAT  WAY;  AND  WHEN 
HE  SAW  HIM,  HE  PASSED  BY  ON  THE  OTHER  SIDE.  AnD  LIKEWISE  A 
LeVITE,  when  he  was  at  THE  PLACE,  CAME  AND  LOOKED  ON  HIM, 
AND  PASSED  BY  ON  THE  OTHER  SIDE.  BUT  A  CERTAIN  SAMARITAN, 
AS  HE  JOURNEYED,  CAME  WHERE  HE  WAS  :  AND  WHEN  HE  SAW  HIM, 
HE  HAD  COMPASSION  ON  HIM,  AND  WENT  TO  HIM  AND  BOUND  UP  HIS 
WOUNDS,  POURING  IN  OIL  AND  WINE,  AND  SET  HIM  ON  HIS  OWN  BEAST, 
AND  BROUGHT  HIM  TO  AN  INN,  AND  TOOK  CARE  OF  HIM. 

And    ON    THE    MORROW   WHEN    HE    DEPARTED,    HE     TOOK    OUT    TWO 

pence,  and  gave  them  to  the  host,  and  said  unto  him,  take  care 
of  him  ;  and  whatsoever  thou  spendest  more,  when  i  come 
again,  i  will  repay  thee. 

Which  now  of  these  three,  thinkest  thou,  was  neighbor  unto 

HIM  that  FELL  AMONG  THE  THIEVES  ?  AnD  HE  SAID,  HE  THAT  SHOWED 
MERCY  ON  HIM.  ThEN  SAID  JeSUS  UNTO  HIM,  GO,  AND  DO  THOU  LIKE- 
WISE.— Luke  X.  30 — 87. 

An  interesting  conversation  once  occurred  between 
several  clergymen  respecting  the  quality  of  a  distin- 
guished preacher.  It  was  agreed  by  all  present  that 
he  was  not  remarkable  for  profound  thought,  or  nice  dis- 
crimination, or  logical  force ;  yet  he  had  great  success, 


160  SERMON  IX. 

and  that  too  with  many  minrls  of  a  highly  respectable 
order.  One  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  men  were 
captivated  with  the  grace  of  his  manner,  and  that  the 
influence  of  his  ministry  was  an  indication  of  the 
superficial  character  of  the  public  mind.  Another 
alleged  that  an  unusual  manifestation  of  religious 
feeling  was  the  secret  of  his  influence,  and  maintained 
this  position  by  alluding  to  the  admitted  fact  that  the 
female  mind,  and  indeed,  all  persons  who  were  re- 
markable for  fine  sensibilities,  most  readily  yielded 
to  the  power  of  his  eloquence.  Upon  this,  another 
observed  that  he  diff'ered  with  them  all.  He  allowed 
that  it  was  true  that  the  preacher  in  question  did  not 
possess  any  remarkable  depth  and  force  of  mind, "  but," 
said  he,  "  he  always  presents  a  fair  amount  of  good 
instruction,  and  exhibits  it  in  a  pleasing  and  attrac- 
tive manner.  Still,  there  is  another  quality,  which, 
added  to  those  just  mentioned,  exerts  an  influence  on 
every  class  of  minds  in  a  popular  assembly."  "  And 
what  is  that?"  inquired  several  voices,  at  once.  "I 
will  tell  you,"  rejoined  my  friend.  ''  He  is  what  I 
should  call,  in  one  word,  a  |nV^077*a?  preacher.  He 
presents  truth  in  the  concrete.  He  makes  bold 
sketches,  and  draws  a  succession  of  scenes  which  serve 
to  interest  one,  and  to  hold  the  mind  upon  the  truth 
long  enough  to  secure  its  legitimate  influence." 

This  quality,  by  whatever  name  you  may  choose  to 
call  it,  belonged  pre-eminently  to  the  preaching  of  our 
Saviour.  While  he  was  always  profound  and  discrimi- 
nating, and  in   these   respects  spake  as  never  man 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  161 

spake,  yet  he  was,  in  the  sense  just  referred  to,  a 
pictorial  preacher.  Our  text  is  one  of  his  scenes. 
It  is  a  picture  true  to  nature,  remarkable  for  a  strik- 
ing individuality,  and  full  of  tender  pathos.  You 
can  almost  hear  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  wounded 
man,  and  the  soft  tones  of  the  compassionate  Samari- 
tan, as  his  story  proceeds.  Yet  the  profoundest  prin- 
ciples are  involved  in  the  incidents  and  characters 
presented  to  us  in  this  thrilling  narrative. 

That  you  may  perceive  the  truth  and  the  import- 
ance of  these  principles,  let  me  call  your  attention 
to  the  occasion  of  our  Lord's  uttering  this  parable. 
A  certain  lawyer — that  is,  a  learned  professor  of 
biblical  exegesis ;  a  man  of  scholarship,  and  devoted 
to  the  interpretation  of  the  Divine  law — put  to  him 
a  question,  the  object  of  which  was  to  involve  our 
Saviour  in  difficulty.  A  certain  lawyer,  it  is  said,  stood 
up,  and  tempted  him,  saying,  "  Master,  what  shall  I 
do  to  inherit  eternal  life?"  Christ  replies  by  asking 
another  question,  a  question  directly  in  the  line  of  his 
own  profession.  "What  is  written  in  the  law?  How 
readest  thou?"  The  lawyer  responded  by  reciting  a 
concise  epitome  of  the  decalogue:  "Thou  shalt  love 
the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind, 
and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself."  Jesus  said  unto  him, 
"Thou  hast  answered  right;  this  do,  and  thou  shalt 
live."  Here  the  conversation  might  naturally  have 
terminated,  and  the  learned  professor  might  have  re- 
tired with  the  conviction  rankling  in  his  bosom  that  he 

14* 


162  SERMON  IX. 

had  not  kept  tlie  law,  and  that  consequently  he  must 
fail  of  eternal  life.  But  he  could  not  rest  thus.  He 
wished  to  justify  himself.  He  desired  to  protract 
the  conversation  and  perplex  the  subject  in  some  way, 
so  that  it  might  not  be  so  perfectly  apparent  that  he 
was  involved  in  guilt  and  condemnation.  Willing  to 
justify  himself,  he  said  unto  Jesus,  "  And  who  is  my 
neiglibor?"  Upon  this,  our  Saviour  adduced  the 
narrative  which  I  have  read  as  my  text.  His  object 
was  plainly  threefold. 

I.  To  sJiow  the  hearings  of  the  second  table  of  the 
lata,  in  rendering  the  claims  of  humanity  universal, 
extensive  as  the  ivants  and  looes  of  men. 

II.  To  depict  the  character  of  those  ivho  decline 
responding  to  these  claims,  ayid 

III.  To  exhibit,  in  a  striking  instance,  the  truth 
that  obedience  to  these  claims  is  both  practicable  and 
obligatory. 

There  is  a  question  arising  from  this  narrative  to 
which  I  wish  to  call  your  attention  for  one  moment. 
It  is  this.  Why  did  this  conversation  terminate  on 
the  second  table  of  the  law?  The  learned  antagonist 
of  our  Lord  had  plainly  stated  that  there  were  tWo 
departments  in  the  Divine  law.  The  one  demanded 
supreme  love  to  God,  the  other  required  a  love  to  our 
neighbor,  measured,  as  to  its  degree,  by  the  regard 
which  we  cherish  for  ourselves.  The  captious  debater 
led  the  discussion  oif  into  the  second  table,  because 
there  was  no  room  for  a  question  in  respect  to  the 
first.     That  all  men  ought  to  love  God  supremely,  no 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  163 

person  can  doubt.  But  when  it  is  said  thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,  a  broad  field  for  debate 
is  open.  Who  is  my  neighbor?  Is  the  term  to  be 
restricted  to  my  own  kindred — my  near  family  re- 
lations? Does  it  embrace  no  more  than  those  resi- 
ding in  my  own  immediate  locality  ?  Is  it  circum- 
scribed, at  least,  by  the  boundaries  of  my  country  ? 
The  answer  to  all  these  inquiries  was  fully  met  by 
the  story  of  the  Good  Samaritan. 

From  the  starting-point,  and  the  destination  of  the 
traveller  as  going  from  Jerusalem  down  to  Jericho,  it 
is  evident  that  he  was  a  Jewish  merchant.  The  story 
is  so  constructed  that  you  cannot  avoid  the  conviction 
that  the  Good  Samaritan  responded  to  the  veritable 
claims  of  the  second  table  of  the  law,  when  he  paused 
in  his  journey,  and,  at  great  inconvenience,  and  delay, 
and  expense,  ministered  to  the  necessity  of  this  un- 
fortunate traveller.  But  why  did  these  claims  rest 
on  him  ?  Was  the  man  one  of  his  near  kindred  ?  No. 
They  were  not  bound  together  by  those  strong  ties 
which  are  created  by  domestic  affections.  They  were 
not  linked  to  each  other  by  the  intermarriage  of  their 
families.  They  were  mutually  strangers.  Nor  were 
they  of  the  same  nation.  The  one  traced  his  pedi- 
gree with  national  pride  back  to  Abraham,  the  other 
was  of  that  mongrel  stock  that  sprung  from  a  remnant 
of  the  ten  tribes  that  had  long  since  mingled  and  lost 
themselves  by  intermarriages  with  their  idolatrous 
conquerors.  Their  interest  in  each  other  was  not 
that  national  attachment  which  springs  up  between 


164  SERMON  IX. 

those  of  the  same  country,  though  personally  strangers, 
as  when  two  Americans  meet  in  Egypt  or  in  China. 
Their  respective  nations  were  not  allied  by  bonds  of 
confederation,  or  by  similar  institutions  and  religions. 
On  the  contrary,  the  Jews  had  no  dealings  with  the 
Samaritans.  A  bitter  and  ancient  grudge  subsisted 
between  the  two  people.  The  English  and  French 
never  cherished  a  deeper  political  hate.  Protestants 
and  Roman  Catholics  were  never  more  unrelenting  in 
religious  animosities.  In  short,  there  were  but  two 
things  on  which  the  claims  of  the  unfortunate  traveller 
rested.  1.  He  was  a  needy,  suffering  man.  2.  The 
Samaritan  had  an  opportunity  to  relieve  him.  The 
claim  of  the  sufferer  was  the  claim  of  want.  It  was 
not  based  on  his  character  as  a  good  man,  on  his  re- 
lationship to  the  Samaritan  as  a  near  kinsman,  on  his 
being  of  the  same  stock,  on  any  political  confederation 
between  the  nations  to  which  they  respectively  be- 
longed. It  rested  not  on  any  similarity  of  institutions 
and  religions.  He  was  a  man,  and  was  hence  entitled 
to  the  sympathy  and  brotherly  affection  of  his  fellow- 
man.  He  was  a  sufferer,  and  had  a  claim  to  compas- 
sion. His  lifeblood  was  ebbing  away  from  un- 
stanched  wounds.  The  Samaritan  was  passing.  He 
had  garments  that  could  be  torn  up  for  bandages,  and 
oil  and  wine  that  could  be  used  to  sustain  and  heal 
him.  The  helplessness  of  the  unfortunate  stranger 
demanded  aid.  His  bleeding  wounds  had  a  claim  for 
the  bandages.  His  fainting  frame  demanded  the 
wine.      He    could    not    walk,    and    his    weakness, 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  165 

in  this  regard,  created  a  claim  for  the  use  of  the 
Samaritan's  beast;  and,  inasmuch  as  he  was  unable 
to  mount,  his  inability  demanded  the  requisite  assist- 
ance to  remove  him  to  more  comfortable  quarters. 
He  needed  attention  still,  and  that  need  made  it  the 
duty  of  the  Samaritan  to  stay  and  take  care  of  him. 
The  next  day  the  exigencies  of  business,  or  the  claims 
of  others  may  require  that  this  humane  stranger  should 
pursue  his  journey.  The  unfortunate  man,  however, 
must  still  be  in  want,  and  this  creates  an  obligation 
to  pay  his  bill,  and  then  to  pledge  his  own  credit  for 
such  care  as  may  be  still  necessary  for  his  recovery. 
The  claim,  according  to  the  law  of  God,  was  a  perfect 
one.  Plausible  things  might  be  said  to  set  it  aside. 
But  nothing  that  could  be  said  could  invalidate  it. 
If  the  Samaritan  had  intended,  by  some  means,  to 
escape  from  the  interruption,  the  labor,  the  expense 
of  all  this  charity,  he  could  have  said :  This  man  is  no 
kindred  of  mine.  I  have  more  poor  relations  to  care 
for  than  my  means  will  well  allow  ?  Besides,  this  Jew 
will,  perhaps,  order  me  to  go  out  of  the  inclosure  of  his 
sacred  temple,  and  call  me  a  dog,  the  next  time  I  am 
in  Jerusalem.  Why  did  not  the  priest  and  Levite  that 
just  passed  this  way  assist  him  ?  He  was  of  their 
own  kindred.  Moreover,  they  are  the  very  rulers  of 
the  church,  professors  of  an  extraordinary  charity. 
But,  if  I  do  help  him,  I  will  only  take  him  to  the  inn. 
That  will  be  my  share.  The  innkeeper  ought  to  do 
something,  and  the  people  of  the  neighborhood  ought 
to  make  a  contribution. — I  say  these  and  many  such 


16G  SERMON  IX. 

like  things  might  be  said  -svith  a  degree  of  plausibility, 
but  they  would  not  have  met  the  demands  of  the  law 
as  expounded  by  Christ,  its  original  author.  The 
meaning  of  that  law  is  plainly  this.  You  are  to  re- 
gard the  interests  of  any  man,  and  every  man  as  if 
they  were  your  own.  Suffering  and  want,  wherever 
they  may  exist,  and  in  whomsoever  found,  have  a 
claim  upon  you,  just  in  proportion  as  the  opportunity 
is  presented  for  affording  relief.  This,  of  course,  does 
not  imply  that  you  are  to  neglect  a  paramount  claim 
that  presses  itself  upon  you  in  your  family,  and  among 
those  with  whom  you  are  socially  and  closely  connect- 
ed ;  nor,  that  you  shall  distribute  your  charity  so  wide- 
ly that  no  individual  can  receive  enough  to  be  materi- 
ally benefited ;  nor,  that  you  shall  disburse  all  your 
stores  at  once,  and  so  direct  your  attention  away  from 
your  proper  vocation,  as  to  deprive  yourself  of  the 
means  of  a  future  liberality.  The  exercise  of  what 
we  call  good  sense  is  needful  to  a  right  distribution 
of  labors  of  love.  But  still,  if  parsimony,  if  the  love 
of  accumulating  wealth  be  permitted  to  come  in,  and 
to  plead  against  one  object,  because  it  is  not  of  your 
own  household,  and  another  because  it  is  not  of  your 
immediate  locality,  and  another  because  you  have  a 
personal  dislike  to  the  object  of  distress  or  want ; — 
if  you  are  disposed  always  to  find  a  reason  against 
making  sacrifices,  and  practising  self-denials  for  the 
good  of  others,  then  I  say,  are  you  living  in  open  and 
wilful  disobedience  to  the  second  table  of  the  law. 
Nor  is  it  necessary  that  the  demand  should  present 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  167 

itself  in  immediate  proximity  with  your  person,  to 
render  it  a  valid  claim.  True,  the  good  Samaritan 
found  the  unfortunate  traveller  bleeding  in  the  very 
path  along  which  he  was  passing.  He  must  either 
track  through  the  blood  in  which  the  stranger  lies 
weltering,  or  he  must  sheer  around  by  the  other  side 
of  the  way,  or  he  must  stop  and  render  assistance. 
But  his  obligation  does  not  depend  on  his  being  so 
hemmed  in,  and  compelled  to  contemplate  that  object 
of  charity.  If  the  same  sufferer  had  been  an  hun- 
dred yards  distant,  out  of  sight  in  a  thicket,  and  he 
had  heard  his  cries  for  help;  or  if  a  trustworthy 
messenger  had  informed  him  of  a  similar  case  at  half 
a  mile's  distance,  the  claim  to  assistance  would  have 
been  substantially  the  same.  Nor  is  it  necessary 
that  the  suffering  should  have  been  created  by  maraud- 
ing robbers.  It  would  have  presented  an  equal  claim 
on  human  sympathy,  if  it  had  been  caused  by  a  fall 
from  his  own  horse,  or  any  other  casualty.  Neither 
is  it  necessary  that  the  injury  should  appeal  to  the 
senses  by  blood  or  groans,  or  indeed  that  it  should 
possess  any  physical  character.  It  may  be  pale  famine 
sending  report  of  its  miseries  from  a  distant  land ; 
it  may  be  degrading  superstition  and  spiritual  dearth 
and  ruin  transmittino;  their  claims  throuo;h  the  ave- 
nues  of  commerce,  or  along  the  electric  wire,  or  speak- 
ing as  the  man  in  the  vision  spoke  to  Paul,  saying, 
"Come  over  into  Macedonia  and  help  us."  If  the 
evils  be  real  and  great ;  if  the  knowledge  of  them  be 
conveyed  to  those  who  possess  the  means  of  furnish- 


168  SERMON  IX. 

iiig  relief,  then  is  the  ohligation  perfect.  There  are 
a  hundred  ways  in  which  men  can  push  it  aside.  But 
it  is  God's  claim,  and  it  cannot  be  invalidated.  It 
can  be  resisted — resisted  plausibly.  But  no  plea  of 
indolence  can  justify  inaction.  No  cunning  manoeuvre 
of  debate  about  who  should  be  reckoned  a  neighbor 
can  furnish  a  shield  for  selfishness ;  no  shuffling  trick 
of  avarice  can  evade  obligation  by  a  reference  to  the 
delinquencies  of  others.  If  the  sufferer  is  a  man,  he 
is  your  neighbor,  your  brother.  If  intelligence  of  his 
wants  has  come  to  you,  or  been  brought  within  your 
reach,  and  a  reasonable  channel  of  relief  has  been 
opened  between  you,  the  claim  on  your  sympathy  is 
a  good  one.  If  you  have  the  power  to  aid  him,  with- 
out injustice  to  yourself  or  others,  and  do  it  not,  you 
place  yourself  in  company  with  the  priest  and  Levite 
that  saw  the  wounded  man  and  passed  by  on  the  other 
side. 

And  this  leads  me  to  the  second  part  of  the  three- 
fold object  which  our  Saviour  had  in  view  in  this  in- 
teresting narrative.  That  was,  as  I  have  before  inti- 
mated, 

To  depict  the  character  of  those  ivho  decline  respond- 
ing to  the  claims  of  the  second  table  of  the  law.  And 
here,  I  cannot  help  marking  the  hand  of  the  Master 
in  describing  this  class  of  persons  by  a  single  stroke. 
By  chance  there  came  down  a  certain  priest  that  way. 
Yes,  it  was  by  chance,  for  if  he  had  known  of  this 
case  of  bleeding  humanity,  he  would  have  taken  an- 
other road,  and  not  allowed  his  nerves  to  be  shocked 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  169 

by  such  a  painful  spectacle.  However,  he  obtained 
a  quick  relief.  No  sooner  did  he  see  the  wounded 
man  than  he  passed  by  on  the  other  side,  and  went 
on  his  journey  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Like- 
wise a  Levite,  when  he  was  at  the  place,  came  and 
looked  on  him  and  passed  by  on  the  other  side. 

These,  you  will  say,  were  hardened  men.  Yet 
there  is  a  slight  difference  observable.  The  priest 
did  not  so  much  as  pause  ;  perhaps,  he  did  not  even 
slacken  his  pace,  but  barely  sheered  around  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  road,  and  passed  on  his  course. 
The  Levite  stopped,  and  looked  on  the  spectacle,  but 
offered  no  relief,  and  also  passed  on.  Which  was 
the  worse  man  ?  They  both  violated  the  same  claim. 
Yet  I  think  there  was  a  difference.  The  priest  was 
a  more  practised  transgressor.  He  had  learned  that 
the  best  way  to  avoid  being  overcome  by  the  power 
of  a  moral  claim  was  to  turn  instantly  away  from  the 
motive  to  action.  It  is  in  accordance  with  the  laws 
of  the  human  mind  that  the  priest  should  be  repre- 
sented as  excelling  in  depravity  if  both  are  wicked. 
The  reason  is  obvious.  A  man  that  occupies  a  sacred 
office,  surrounded  with  everything  that  is  solemn  and 
tender  in  the  motives  for  doing  right,  must  be  a  more 
hardened  man  to  violate  all  these  influences,  than  one 
who  commits  the  same  transgression  under  a  less 
degree  of  moral  influence.  There  are  few  persons 
that  can  contemplate  fully  a  case  of  suffering  and 
want,  and  be  conscious  of  a  perfect  ability  to  afford 
assistance,  and  then  deliberately  withhold  their  aid. 
15 


170  SERMON  IX. 

The  principal  thing,  then,  that  characterizes  the 
habitual  violators  of  the  second  table  of  the  law  is 
their  determined  avoidance  of  the  motives  to  compas- 
sion. 

Behold,  then,  this  priest  and  this  Levite.  They 
are  not  mere  individuals.  Thej  represent  all  habi- 
tual transgressors  of  the  second  table  of  the  law. 
Let  us  take  these  as  a  nucleus  around  -which  we  may 
gather  in  a  homogeneous  cluster  all  who  possess  the 
same  general  character.  Here  is  a  man  whom  we 
would  persuade  to  take  some  interest  in  improving 
the  condition  of  the  poor  in  our  city.  We  spread 
before  you  their  state.  We  show  you  that  what  they 
need  is  not  so  much  an  almshouse  and  public  hospital. 
They  need  a  friend  of  intelligence  and  character  that 
will  go  and  take  them  by  the  hand — some  one  that 
will  lay  hold  of  a  family  as  if  they  were  his  own  poor 
relations,  whom  he  meant  to  do  his  utmost  to  raise  to 
respectability  and  usefulness.  Such  a  family  presents 
itself.  The  parents  are  improvident,  partly  through 
the  want  of  early  instruction,  and  partly  through  a 
moral  delinquency  and  indolence.  Yet  it  really 
seems  to  them  that  they  are  unfortunate,  and  that 
they  are  constantly  in  such  straits  just  because  society 
is  badly  constituted — so  constituted  as  to  make  it 
difficult  for  poor  people  to  acquire  a  subsistence. — • 
Their  children,  naturally  bright  and  promising,  will 
form  similar  habits,  and  acquire  similar  modes  of 
thinking,  if  something  be  not  done  to  prevent  it. 
The  condition  of  this  family  appeals  to  you,  as  their 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  171 

prosperous  neighbor,  and  awakes  reflection.  It  says 
you  may  do  a  world  of  good,  and  prevent  a  world  of 
evil,  by  forming  and  prosecuting  a  judicious  plan  for 
the  improving  the  character  and  state  of  this  poor 
family.  You  can,  at  least  for  a  time,  visit  them  once 
a  week,  and  manifest  your  concern  for  them.  You  can 
suggest  or  furnish  employment.  You  can  teach  and 
aid  them  in  their  little  affairs  to  make  the  income  of 
a  time  of  plenty  lap  over  into  seasons  of  scarcity. 
You  can  help  them  to  prosecute  some  plan  for  per- 
manently improving  their  state.  If  it  costs  you 
twenty  dollars  in  a  year,  and  as  many  hours  of 
thoughtful  endeavor,  it  is  a  most  profitable  outlay  of 
charity.  Your  influence  is  established  in  that  whole 
household.  Self-respect  is  awakened  on  their  part,  by 
the  consciousness  of  enjoying  your  friendship.  They 
are  prepared  to  be  influenced  by  your  advice.  You 
may  place  them  in  the  sanctuary  that  they  had  neg- 
lected; you  may  become  the  instrument  of  moulding 
their  characters.  I  grant  that  you  may  neglect  that 
family  through  being  engrossed  in  a  more  important 
work  of  charity.  But,  if  you  neglect  it  on  the  usual 
pretences — the  urgency  of  your  own  affairs — the  fact 
that  such  a  family  holds  no  special  relations  to  you — 
that  others  may  do  the  work  as  well  as  yourself, 
then  I  say  you  are  joined  to  the  company  of  the 
priest  and  Levite.  You  have  passed  by  on  the  other 
side.  You  belong  to  the  class  that  deliberately  neg- 
lect obedience  to  the  second  table  of  the  law. 

But  here  is  another  appealed  to,  to  send  the  gospel 


172  SERMON  IX. 

to  the  heathen.  Missions  to  the  heathen  are  one  of 
the  first  and  most  natural  fruits  of  Christianity.  Our 
religion  travelled  westward,  from  its  birthplace,  only 
by  means  of  missions  to  the  heathen.  Hence  our 
own  ancestors  received  it,  and  hence  we  enjoy  to-day 
these  sanctuaries  and  these  Christian  institutions. 
When  Christianity  had  nearly  pervaded  the  civilized 
world,  it  received  itself  an  impress  from  the  paganism 
with  which  it  held  so  much  commerce,  and  the  church 
sank  into  a  dark  and  semi-idolatrous  state.  Since  the 
Reformation,  the  missionary  work  has  received  a  fresh 
impetus.  The  gospel  has  gone  forth  to  heathen 
nations.  Hundreds  of  churches  have  been  gathered. 
Schools  have  been  established,  and  printing  presses 
have  been  set  in  operation  among  barbarous  tribes,  to 
impart  a  Christian  tone  to  their  nascent  civilization. 
But  the  cause  labors.  A  Macedonian  cry,  "  Come 
over  and  help  us,"  is  borne  on  every  breeze.  You 
are  asked  to  compassionate  six  hundred  millions  of 
benighted  men.  You  are  invited  to  come  once  each 
month  to  the  sanctuary  and  unite  with  the  people  of 
God  in  prayer  on  their  behalf.  You  are  solicited,  it 
may  be,  to  contribute  of  your  funds  to  sustain  laborers 
in  the  field,  or  possibly  to  give  up  one  of  your  dear 
children  to  the  Avork,  or  to  go  yourself.  It  may  not 
be  your  duty  to  go,  or  to  send  your  son,  or  to  devote 
large  amounts  of  property  to  this  work.  But,  if  your 
heart  never  bleeds  for  the  six  hundred  millions,  if  you 
do  nothing — if  you  meet  every  appeal,  with  a  cap- 
tious objection  ;  if  you  oppose  present  plans  of  opera- 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  173 

tion  without  devising  those  that  are  better ;  if  you 
leave  this  great  movement  wholly  to  others,  and  do  not 
pause  to  look  upon  the  heathen  and  weep,  and  to  ask, 
"Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do?"  then  you  too  be- 
long to  the  same  company  with  the  priest  and  Levite. 
You  pass  by  on  the  other  side. 

You,  again,  are  solicited  to  aid  a  poor  church  to 
erect  a  sanctuary  in  one  of  our  sparsely  populated 
and  destitute  counties.  You  are  opposed  to  aiding 
anybody  in  building  churches.  You  think  they 
ought  to  erect  such  a  one  as  their  means  will  allow. 
But  the  soliciting  clergyman  tells  you  that  there  are 
only  four  or  five  families  that  feel  any  great  interest 
in  the  enterprise ;  that  a  sanctuary  is  indispensable 
as  a  means  of  bringing  the  people  together  to  teach 
them  that  they  need  one.  All  will  not  do.  You 
have  made  up  your  mind  beforehand,  and  you  will 
not  so  much  as  pause  and  look  at  the  distress,  as  the 
Levite  did — you  pass  right  on  with  the  priest,  sheering 
around  to  the  other  side,  and  thinking  as  little  as 
possible  of  the  justness  of  the  claim.  Now  observe, 
I  have  not  maintained  that  all  persons  belong  to  this 
class  who  reject  any  claim  that  may  be  presented.  I 
only  say  that  those  who  are  annoyed  by  calls  of 
charity — those  who  desire  to  avoid  looking  at  them, 
and  who  set  up  such  pretences  as  were  just  referred 
to,  that  they  swell  the  company  that  are  homogeneous 
with  the  priest  and  Levite. 

And  this  leads  me  to  the  third  principal  point 
brought  to  view  in  the  narrative.     The  truth,  that 

15* 


174  SERMON  IX. 

obedience  to  the  second  table  of  the  law,  is  both  2^raC' 
ticable  and  obligatory,  is  clearly  exhibited  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  good  Samaritan.  This  point  I  deem  one 
of  great  importance,  because  it  is  one  in  respect  to 
which  multitudes  deceive  themselves.  There  is  per- 
haps no  man  that  has  not,  at  some  time,  performed  an 
act  of  generosity.  Such  a  one  is  apt  to  think  that 
the  only  difference  that  subsists  between  himself  and 
the  good  Samaritan,  or  a  man  like  John  Howard  the 
philanthropist,  or  the  missionary  Martyn,  or  Paul,  or 
Christ,  in  respect  to  acts  of  kindness  and  compassion 
is,  that  they  more  abounded  in  acts  of  generosity 
than  himself;  that  these  great  philanthropists  differed 
from  him  not  radically,  but  only  in  degree. 

I  humbly  conceive  it  can  be  demonstrated  to  you 
that  this  is  a  grand  mistake.  This  good  Samaritan 
relieved  distress  where  others  refused  their  assistance. 
There  was  something  in  the  case  of  that  Avounded 
man  which  failed  to  awaken  the  compassion  and  call 
forth  the  friendly  interposition  of  the  priest  and 
Levite,  although  they  were  his  countrymen,  and  pro- 
bably his  fellow-citizens.  Perhaps  the  pausing  in 
that  wild  place  where  the  outrage  had  been  committed 
was  dangerous.  Perhaps  the  difficulty  of  removing  him 
to  more  comfortable  quarters  was  great  on  account  of 
the  distance  and  the  state  of  the  roads.  Perhaps  his 
condition  was  such  as  to  render  the  necessary  atten- 
tion disagreeable  and  sickening  in  its  nature.  AYhat- 
ever  the  cause  might  have  been,  there  were  certain 
repellencics  connected  with  the  case,  of  such  a  char- 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  175 

acter  as  to  prevent  any  kind  endeavor  on  his  behalf 
by  these  two  selfish  men.  The  Samaritan,  with  slighter 
grounds  of  appeal,  took  up  the  matter  as  if  the  man 
had  been  his  brother,  and  that  too  though  not  of  the 
same  nation  or  religion;  though  he  belonged,  even,  to 
a  people  that  despised  the  Samaritans.  A  man  that 
would  do  such  a  work,  in  such  circumstances,  was  a 
philanthropist  in  his  whole  character.  He  would 
have  responded  to  any  call  of  suffering  humanity.  If 
he  were  now  alive  and  here,  he  would  be  one  of  the 
men  to  whom  every  person  engaged  in  works  of 
charity  and  mercy  would  go  for  sympathy  and  aid. 
Such  a  man  was  John  Howard.  The  most  noisome 
dungeon  could  not  repel  him.  The  dangers  of  con- 
tagion could  not  slacken  his  zeal.  His  whole  estate 
and  whole  time  were  not  too  much  to  contribute  to 
the  wants  of  suffering  humanity.  Such  a  man  was 
the  missionary  Martyn,  and  such  are  hundreds  now, 
like  him,  that  have  taken  their  all  in  their  hands  and 
gone  forth  to  raise  a  degraded  people.  Such  a  person 
was  Elizabeth  Fry,  the  self-sacrificing  prisoner's 
friend. 

Nor  is  this  spirit  confined  to  those  whose  ample 
estate  or  learning,  or  social  position,  or  official 
station  have  made  them  eminent.  Thousands  of 
poor  men  and  women — persons  devoted  earnestly 
to  a  secular  vocation,  breathe  the  same  spirit.  It 
has  been  my  happiness  to  know  many  here,  and 
elsewhere,  that  are  philanthropists  in  character ; 
persons  that  will  respond  to  a  claim,  not  merely  when 


176  SERMON  IX. 

it  happens  to  meet  their  generosity  in  a  peculiar  vein, 
but  to  any  claim  of  charity. 

The  difference  between  such,  and  those  represented 
by  the  priest  and  Levite,  is  not  that  one  class  is  more 
generous  than  the  other.  It  is  rather  this:  the  one 
avoids  the  objects  of  compassion,  the  other  seehs 
them.  The  one  inquires:  "Who  is  my  neighbor? 
Is  there  any  special  claim  on  me  here  ?  Ought  not 
others  to  do  this  work  ?  Am  I  not  asked  to  do  more 
than  my  part?  The  calls  are  too  frequent,  too  many; 
I  am  worn  out  by  the  number  and  the  urgency  of  the 
demands  of  charity."  The  other  says:  "The  case  is 
important,  truly.  I  wish  there  were  more  time  at  my 
command.  I  must  save  an  hour  from  my  recreations 
or  my  business.  It  demands  expense.  True.  I  see 
it.  If  the  whole  church  would  co-operate  liberally 
what  a  good  work  could  be  done.  Well,  since  they 
will  not,  we  must  do  the  more.  Here  is  my  contribu- 
tion. This  cause  must  not  suffer.  If  you  are  not 
likely  to  succeed  call  again,  and  I  will  double  my  gifts." 
Thus  you  can  sec  in  the  one  party  a  determination  to 
avoid  self-denial,  to  evade  the  appeal,  to  pass  by  on 
the  other  side  of  the  calls  of  humanity,  to  as  great  a 
degree  as  possible.  In  the  other,  you  can  just  as 
clearly  discover  a  spontaneous  yearning  over  suffer- 
ing and  needy  men;  an  appetency  towards  the  scenes 
of  want;  a  reluctance  to  leave  the  work  of  doing 
good  to  others. 

We  have  a  still  higher  example  than,  that  of  the 
good  Samaritan.     When  Christ  passed  in  the  direc- 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  177 

tion  of  our  world,  he  saw  our  ruined  race.  He  found 
us  in  our  blood,  more  than  half  dead,  robbed  by  sin 
and  sinking  into  death  eternal.  He  did  not  pass  by 
like  the  priest  on  the  other  side.  He  did  not  pause 
merely  like  the  Levite  and  then  pass  on.  He  compas- 
sionated our  state,  though  it  cost  him  humiliation,  pain, 
and  death.  No  mere  man  ever  manifested  a  love  like 
his,  or  copied  perfectly  his  compassion.  Yet  every 
true  disciple  of  the  Lord  Jesus  does  aim,  deliberately, 
to  imitate  his  philanthropy. 

And  now  let  me  ask  you,  my  hearers,  in  conclusion, 
have  you  this  evidence  of  being  genuine  disciples  of 
Christ.  Do  you  aim  to  keep  this  second  table  of  the 
law?  I  do  not  ask  whether  you  keep  it  perfectly. 
I  know  you  do  not.  There  is  an  imperfection  in 
the  endeavors  of  the  most  devout  and  philanthropic. 
But  do  you  listen  to  every  call  of  bleeding  humanity 
as  a  call  to  you — a  call  in  which  you  ought  to  have 
and  really  have  an  interest?  These  claims  are  uni- 
versal. Every  man  is  your  neighbor.  Every  suf- 
ferer is  your  poor  relation,  your  brother.  He  may 
have  nearer  relations;  that  makes  no  difference.  It 
may  be  that  some  one  else  is  more  immediately  bound 
to  assist  him,  and  yet  will  not.  It  may  be  that  you 
are  asked  to  do  more  than  your  share.  I  cannot  help 
that.  If  he  is  in  want,  and  you  can  assist  him  with- 
out injustice  to  others  or  yourself,  the  case  is  a  clear 
one.  No  matter  whether  his  wants  be  physical  or 
moral — whether  he  suffers  from  a  bleeding  body  or 
''  abounded  spirit."    If  your  brother  man  have  need, 


178  SERMON  IX. 

and  you  shut  up   your  bowels  of  compassion,   how 
dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  you  ? 

IIow  do  you  meet  these  claims.  Do  you  pass 
around  them?  Do  you  ask  who  is  my  neighbor?  Do 
you  hesitate  to  look  at  the  wants  of  your  race  ?  Do 
you  banish  the  calls  of  charity  from  your  mind,  and 
complain  of  the  frequency  with  which  they  are  brought 
before  you  by  associated  endeavor  ?  Do  you  pass  by 
the  scenes  of  distress  on  the  other  side  ?  Do  not 
deceive  yourself.  You  may  be  a  reputable  professor 
of  religion  ;  you  may  fill  a  sacred  office,  and 
not  possess  the  philanthropic  spirit  of  our  Master, 
and  so  be  none  of  his.  I  trust  I  shall  not  be  mis- 
understood; that  none  of  you  will  think  that  I  am 
maintaining  that  you  must  yield  to  every  solicita- 
tion which  any  one  may  choose  to  present — or,  that 
you  must  bestow  liberal  gifts  on  every  mendicant, 
irrespective  of  the  influence  whether  it  foster  vice  or 
encourage  virtue  and  relieve  distress.  I  advocate  no 
such  weak  facility  in  yielding  to  the  cries  of  false- 
hood and  imposture.  But  I  do  say  that  you  live  in 
a  suffering,  needy  world.  That  the  calls  of  real 
necessity  are  numerous  and  urgent.  The  poor  ye 
have  always  with  you.  In  that  alley,  your  Saviour  is 
sick  and  in  want  in  the  person  of  an  indigent  dis- 
ciple. In  yonder  penitentiary,  he  is  in  prison  in  the 
suffering  of  sinful  men  for  whom  he  died.  In  that 
neglected  portion  of  our  population,  where  no  sanc- 
tuary invites  the  people  to  worship,  he  is  represented 
by  those  whom  he  came  to  save.     In  those  heathen 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN.  179 

tribes  over  which  a  portion  of  the  visible  church 
yearns  with  tender  compassion,  he  that  died  for  them 
invokes  your  pity.  You  shall  be  confronted,  one  day, 
by  all  these  neglected  poor,  at  the  bar  of  God.  If 
you  meet  them  as  one  who  was  in  full  sympathy  with 
your  and  their  Redeemer,  you  shall  hear  the  welcome 
announcement:  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father — in- 
asmuch as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  But,  if  you  were 
not  a  hearty  philanthropist — if  you  did  not  walk  with 
Christ  up  and  down  in  this  dying  world;  if  when  this 
good  Samaritan,  this  heavenly  stranger  was  binding 
up  the  wounds  of  men,  you  did  not  count  it  a  privilege 
to  be  near  him — to  hold  his  dossils  and  bandages, 
and  pour  out  freely  your  own  oil  and  wine,  then  I 
say  it  will  be  found  that  you  have  not  that  sympathy 
with  him  which  will  secure  your  entering  into  his  joy. 
Deceive  not  yourself.  The  Omniscient  God  cannot 
be  deceived  and  will  not  be  mocked.  "  If  any  man 
love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can 
he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen?" 


SERMON   X. 

SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  FORBEARANCE. 

Because    sentence   against   an  evil   work  is  not  executed 
speedily,  therefore  the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set 

IN  THEM  TO  DO  EVIL. EccUs.  \1U.   11. 

Whatever  this  portion  of  Sacred  Writ  teaches  is 
applicable  to  the  human  family  at  large.  It  belongs 
not  to  any  class  of  persons,  but  to  "  the  sons  of  men." 
Three  important  truths  are  suggested  by  the  text. 

I.  It  is  implied  that  the  sentence  of  condem- 
nation IS  already  passed  upon  men. 

II.  It  is  directly  taught  by  the  language  used, 
that  the  execution  of  the  sentence  is  delayed  ; 
and — 

III.  That  men  take  occasion  to  harden  them- 
selves in  sin  on  account  of  the  forbearance  of 
God. 

Your  attention  is  invited  to  these  topics  in  the 
order  just  stated. 

I.  It  is  hnplied  that  the  sentence  of  condemnation 
from  Crod  is  already/  passed  upon  men.  ''  Because 
sentence  against  an  evil  work  is  not  executed."  This 
language  plainly  implies  that  the  sentence  has  been 


SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  FORBEARANCE.        181 

past,  and  that  the  delay  of  justice  has  occurred  pre- 
cisely between  the  sentence  and  the  execution.  Other- 
wise the  writer  would  have  intimated  that  the  result 
which  he  deplored  had  arisen  either  from  the  fact  that 
no  law  had  been  promulgated — or  from  a  neglect  to 
arraign  and  pass  sentence  upon  its  transgressor. 
Instead  of  this,  however,  he  assumes  that  the  law  has 
been  known,  but  its  sacred  influence  has  not  restrained 
from  evil  doing.  He  assumes,  also,  that  the  sentence 
of  condemnation  has  been  pronounced.  This  has  failed 
to  interpose  a  salutary  check  to  sin.  There  is  but  one 
more  step  in  the  process  of  justice.  This  step  is 
delayed,  "sentence  is  not  executed  speedily."  It  is 
not  improbable,  my  friends,  that  many  of  you  may 
have  inferred  from  your  views  of  a  future  judgment, 
and  from  the  nature  of  a  probation  for  the  formation 
of  character,  that  you  are  not  yet  condemned;  and 
that  your  condition  in  relation  to  the  Divine  government 
is  analogous  to  the  state  of  those  who  have  rendered 
themselves,  in  some  respects,  liable  to  the  law  of  the 
state,  but  who,  on  account  of  the  lenity  of  the  govern- 
ment, have  never  yet  been  arraigned,  and  who  never 
will  be  if  their  character  as  citizens  should  be  im- 
proved. If  this  be  your  view,  let  me  assure  you  that  it 
is  a  total  mistake.  The  law  of  God  has  been  published 
not  only,  but  you  have  also  been  arraigned  before  your 
Lawgiver  and  Judge,  and  your  eternal  doom  has  been 
pronounced. 

This    truth   is    very   clearly  substantiated   by  our 
Saviour's  reasoning  to  prove  that  he  did  not  come  into 
16 


182  SERMON  X. 

the  world  to  condemn  men,  but  to  save  them.  In  the 
gospel  according  to  St.  John,  in  the  third  chapter  and 
17th  and  18th  verses,  he  sajs:  "For  God  sent  not 
his  Son  into  the  world  to  condemn  the  world,  but  that 
the  world  through  him  might  be  saved.  lie  that 
believeth  on  him  is  not  condemned ;  but  he  that  be- 
lievcth  not  is  condemned  already,  because  he  hath  not 
believed  in  the  name  of  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God." 
Here  are  two  reasons  given  to  prove  that  our  Saviour 
did  not  come  into  the  world  to  condemn  men.  The 
first  is  the  declaration  that  his  work  was  of  an  op- 
posite character :  it  was  to  confer  eternal  life  upon 
all  that  should  put  their  trust  in  him,  so  that  his  in- 
fluence was  to  remove  the  condemnatory  sentence. 
The  second  reason  w^as  found  in  the  fact  that  they 
were  condemned  already.  In  the  36th  verse  of  the 
same  chapter  he  also  represents  the  unbeliever  as 
lying  at  the  present  time  under  the  sentence  of  the 
Divine  law.  "  He  that  believeth  not  the  Son  (says 
he)  shall  not  see  life,  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on 
him."  The  sentence  of  condemnation  has  gone  forth 
against  the  unconverted ;  and  justice  cries:  "  Cut  him 
down;  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him." 

In  accordance  with  this  view,  the  apostle  Paul 
speaks  of  himself  and  his  Ephesian  brethren  as  having 
once  been  "  children  of  wrath,  even  as  others."  That 
is,  they  had  once  been  in  a  state  of  condemnation, 
momentarily  exposed  to  the  infliction  of  the  Divine 
displeasure.  The  universally  declared  design  of  the 
provisions   of    grace    substantiate   the    same   truth. 


SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  FORBEARANCE.       183 

Christ  died  to  redeem  us  from  the  curse  of  the  hiw, 
that  is,  to  deliver  us  from  its  condemnatory  sentence. 
We  are  also  said  to  have  forgiveness  through  his  blood. 
But  forgiveness  always  presupposes  condemnation. 
You  cannot  easily  conceive  of  a  grosser  insult  than 
would  be  conveyed  by  offering  forgiveness  to  one  who 
was  not  condemned.  Indeed,  the  whole  burden  of  the 
gospel,  as  a  scheme  of  mercy,  assumes  that  men  are 
condemned  already.  Every  soul  that  implores  the 
Divine  grace  admits  it.  Every  believer  gives  his 
testimony  to  the  same  truth  when  he  exultingly  ex- 
claims in  the  language  of  the  apostle:  "  There  is  there- 
fore now  no  condemnation  to  them  which  are  in  Christ 
Jesus,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit. 
For  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath 
made  me  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death."  Every 
saint  who  lifts  his  imploring  eyes  to  Christ  on  the 
bed  of  death  and  cries,  ^'  Even  so,  come.  Lord  Jesus, 
come  quickly,"  admits  that  he  has  been  condemned, 
and  that  he  looks  for  mercy  only  through  a  pardon- 
ing Saviour.  Every  sinner  that  dies  in  his  sins,  if 
he  be  sensible  of  his  condition,  confesses  that  he  "is 
condemned  already,"  and  that  "  the  WTath  of  God 
abideth  on  him." 

II.  Tlie  execution  is  delayed.  The  sentence  of  the 
Divine  law,  though  passed,  is  not  executed  speedily. 
The  only  reason  that  can  be  given  to  show  why  any 
unconverted  sinner  is  not  this  moment  among  the 
lost,  is  found  in  the  forbearance  of  God.  The  only 
question,   then,    that    can   be    raised  respecting   the 


184  SERMON  X. 

treatment  of  one  "wlio  is  licensed,  must  refer  to  liis 
condemnation.  If  that  point  be  once  settled,  and  the 
condemnatory  sentence  be  passed,  tlie  criminal  can 
set  up  no  claim  i'nr  the  delay  of  the  execution.  The 
very  moment  in  which  it  becomes  right  to  pronounce 
sentence,  that  moment  it  is  right  to  let  fall  the  axe  of 
justice.  Tills  tliought  is  set  forth  in  a  beautifully 
simple  and  perspicuous  light  by  one  of  our  Saviour's 
brief  parables.  "  A  certain  man  (said  he)  had  a  fig- 
tree  planted  in  his  vineyard,  and  he  came  and  sought 
fruit  thereon,  and  found  none.  Then  said  he  unto 
the  dresser  of  his  vineyard.  Behold,  these  three  years  I 
come  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig-tree,  and  find  none ;  cut 
it  down,  why  cumbcreth  it  the  ground  ?  And  he, 
answering,  said  unto  him,  Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year 
also,  till  I  shall  dig  about  it  and  dung  it,  and  if  it 
bear  fruit,  wtII  ;  if  not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt 
cut  it  down."  Here  the  barren  tree  represents  the  un- 
converted sinner.  The  husbandman  sparing  it,  and 
coming  year  after  year  and  finding  no  fruit,  is  God, 
preferring  his  claims.  The  sentence  pronounced,  "  cut 
it  doAvn,"  is  the  demand  of  justice  for  an  immediate 
execution  of  the  sentence  upon  the  ungodly.  The 
plea,  "  Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year  also,"  is  the  forbear- 
ance of  God,  or  the  interposition  of  Christ  to  delay 
the  execution  of  justice.  To  that  plea,  my  impenitent 
friend,  are  you  indebted  for  every  day's  continuance  of 
your  life.  On  that  account,  alone,  are  you  permitted 
to  visit  the  sanctuary  instead  of  tenanting  the  prison  of 
despair ;  to  listen  to  the  calls  of  Divine  grace  rather 


SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  FORBEARANCE.       185 

than  the  wailings  of  the  lost  and  your  own  groans  of 
undying  agony. 

III.  Let  us  notice  the  influence  of  this  forbearance. 
Men  take  occasion  to  hay'den  themselves  in  sin  on 
account  of  God's  forbearance.  "Because  sentence 
against  an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily,  there- 
fore, the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in  them 
to  do  evil."  The  expression  of  the  thought  contained 
in  this  part  of  the  text,  is  extremely  forcible.  Their 
heart  is  not  said  to  be  the  more  inclined  to  evil,  merely 
on  account  of  the  delay  of  punishment,  but  their  heart 
is  set  in  them  ;  yes,  "fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil." 

This  mournful  truth  is  abundantly  evinced  by  his- 
tory, and  by  daily  observation.  It  is  the  nature  of 
the  human  heart,  when  indulged  in  its  own  career,  to 
lead  the  soul  on  in  greater  boldness  in  sin.  Thus,  the 
wise  man  says,  "  The  prosperity  of  fools  shall  destroy 
them."  Pharaoh  had  serious  thoughts  of  repentance 
and  reformation,  when  the  rod  of  chastisement  was 
lifted  up,  and  the  prospect  was  clear  that  he  could  no 
longer  be  allowed  to  pass  unpunished.  But,  as  soon 
as  judgments  were  removed,  and  he  had  the  prospect 
of  present  impunity,  he  hardened  his  heart.  Indeed, 
through  all  that  interesting  series  of  providences 
towards  him,  he  inclined  towards  reformation,  in  every 
instance,  when  his  doom  seemed  to  be  hastening  on, 
and  hardened  his  heart,  in  view  of  the  delay  of  pun- 
ishment. Thus,  he  waxed  worse  and  worse,  till  sud- 
den destruction  came  upon  him.  How  often,  too,  have 
we  seen  men  in  sickness,  when  present  calamities  were 

16* 


186  SERMON  X. 

resting  upon  tlicm,  and  when  future  judgment  seemed 
impending,  serious,  and  even  anxiously  inquiring  what 
thej  must  do  to  be  saved ;  but  no  sooner  is  health 
restored,  than  they  manifestly  begin  to  grow  hardened. 
They  take  occasion  from  the  prospect  of  long  life,  to 
indulge  in  sin  against  God,  and  their  heart  becomes 
"fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil."  Let  me  ask,  have  you 
not  been  conscious  of  the  same  influence,  in  your  own 
case  ?  Has  the  world  never  appeared  dark  to  you  ? 
Have  not  calamities  sometimes  beclouded  your  earthly 
prospects  ?  Has  not  disease  sometimes  led  you  to 
think  of  the  grave,  and  to  conclude  that  you  might  soon 
stand  before  God  in  judgment.  In  such  seasons  have 
you  not  been  inclined  to  form  good  resolutions  and 
mend  your  ways  ?  But  what  did  you  do  when  your 
prospects  brightened  again,  and  you  began  to  feel 
that  you  might  have  many  years  of  impunity,  even 
though  you  did  spend  them  in  sin  ?  You  became  more 
thoughtless,  and  your  heart  was  fully  set  in  you  to  do 
evil. 

Your  secret  promises  of  repentance  at  the  last,  all 
imply  the  same  thing.  Perhaps  there  are  few  persons 
within  the  sound  of  my  voice  that  do  not  sometimes 
look  forward  to  their  death-bed,  and  meditate  upon 
that  solemn  hour.  Most  of  you,  too,  probably  indulge 
the  hope  that,  if  you  do  not  repent  of  your  sins  pre- 
viously to  that  period,  you  will  then,  at  least,  confess 
your  guilt  and  seek  for  joardon  through  a  crucified 
Redeemer.  Now  why  do  you  think  of  it  as  a  work  to 
be   performed  then,  instead  of  a  duty  which   must 


SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  FORBEARANCE.       187 

receive  your  attention  at  the  present  hour?  For  no 
other  reason,  phiinly,  except  that  the  apparent  dis- 
tance from  the  hour  of  doom  diminishes  the  motives 
that  act  upon  you.  You  now  hope  for  long  delay. 
You  hope  that  sentence  will  not  be  executed  speedily. 
You  take  occasion  to  think  less  of  sin,  and  less  of  your 
need  of  repentance,  because  you  know  that  God  is  kind 
and  forbearing,  and  you  hope  for  impunity  in  sin. 

Our  subject  suggests  several  important  lessons  of 
instruction. 

1.  3Ie7i  only  delude  themselves  ivhen  they  resolve  to 
give  due  attention  to  their  spiritual  interests  after  they 
shall  have  secured  some  iynportant  woi^ldly  objects. 
Among  the  good  resolutions  of  unconverted  men,  per- 
haps there  are  none  more  common  than  the  class  now 
referred  to.  They  fancy  that  vital  religion  will  im- 
pede their  endeavors  to  achieve  some  important  secu- 
lar end.  The  scholar  "is  afraid  that  the  gospel,  since 
it  is  a  check  upon  the  ambitious  spirit  that  now  incites 
him  to  action,  will  be  unfavorable  to  his  attainments. 
The  man  of  business  firmly  resolves  that,  as  soon  as  he 
can  secure  a  competency,  and  divest  himself  of  the 
perplexities  and  temptations  of  business,  he  will  give 
due  attention  to  his  spiritual  interests.  The  young 
flatter  themselves  that,  when  they  shall  be  settled  in 
the  domestic  state,  surrounded  with  the  happy  and 
yet  grave  and  balancing  influence  of  a  family,  they 
will  then  regard  the  salvation  of  the  gospel  as  the  one 
thing  needful. 

Now  here  is  nothing  but  delusion  in  whatever  light 


188  SERMON  X. 

you  contemplate  the  subject.  If  you  do  not  succeed 
in  securing  these  secular  interests  according  to  your 
expectations,  as  you  probably  will  not,  you  have 
strengthened  the  habit  of  the  delay  of  conversion  by 
long  indulgence.  If  you  gain  your  object,  you  will 
probably  not  be  satisfied  with  it,  and  so  will  delay 
your  attention  to  your  soul's  eternal  well-being  till  you 
shall  have  made  a  still  greater  achievement.  But  sup- 
pose the  best,  suppose  you  have  acquired  as  much 
fame  for  your  learning,  as  much  renown  in  political 
life,  or  as  much  wealth  as  satisfies  you.  Then  you 
have  also  worldly  prosperity,  and  with  it  the  hope  of 
a  present  impunity  in  sin.  Now  you  are  in  the  most 
dangerous  position  of  all.  You  resemble  those  of 
whom  David  speaks  in  the  73d  Psalm.  "  I  was  en- 
vious at  the  foolish,  when  I  saw,"  said  he,  ''  the  pros- 
perity of  the  wicked ;  they  are  not  in  trouble  as  other 
men,  neither  are  they  plagued  like  other  men,  there- 
fore pride  compasseth  them  about  as  a  chain;  violence 
covereth  them  as  a  garment.  Their  eyes  stand  out 
with  fatness ;  they  have  more  than  heart  can  wish." 
As  surely  as  you  succeed  in  placing  yourself  in  a  state 
of  prosperity,  you  place  yourself  in  a  condition  in 
w^hich  you  will  be  more  likely  to  exemplify  the  truth 
of  our  text:  ''Because  sentence  against  an  evil  work 
is  not  executed  speedily,  therefore  the  heart  of  the 
sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil." 

2.  Oif?'  subject  suggests  a  peculiar  view  of  the  guilt 
which  attaches  to  the  delay  of  repentance.  You  delay 
because  God  is   forbearing.     Because   your  Saviour 


SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  FORBEARANCE.       189 

has  shed  his  blood  for  you,  you  feel  safe  in  neglecting 
his  salvation.     You  rightly  infer  that  one  who  would 
make  such  a  sacrifice  to  save  his  enemies  will  bear 
long  with  them.     If  you  knew  that  you  should  have 
one  offer   of  salvation  at  this  hour,  and  never  have 
another  opportunity  of  making  your  peace  with  God, 
you  would  regard  it  as  a  most  solemn  and  awful  crisis. 
But  you  hope  that  if  you  now  make  light  of  Christ, 
yet,  he  is  so  gracious  towards  sinners  that  he  will  pre- 
serve you,  and  will  say  to  Justice,  Spare  him  this  year 
also.    You  are  aware  that  sin  provokes  his  displeasure, 
and  that  a   refusal    to    accept    overtures    of  mercy, 
bought  with  his  precious  blood,  is  sin  of  the  most 
aggravated  character;  but  you  reflect  that  that  same 
Saviour  was  smitten  in  the  face  and  spit  upon,  and 
bore  it  with  meekness  ;  and  then,  when  he  was  cruci- 
fied by  the  malignity  of  his  enemies,  he  prayed  for 
them  with  his  dying  breath  ;  you  hope,  therefore,  that 
he  will  bear  with  you.     You  are  aware  that  you  are 
called  upon  to  consecrate  your  youth  to  his  service ; 
but  you  reflect  that  many  have  made  light  of  Christ 
in  all  their  early  days,  and  yet,  through  his  great  for- 
bearance and  grace,  they  have  been  brought  late  in 
life  to  taste  the  joys  of  his  salvation.     You  trifle  with 
him — you  grieve  him — you  insult  him,  because  you 
know  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  he  will  bear 
all  this  and  still  be  willing  to  save  you.     What  ingrati- 
tude!   what  a  peculiar   aggravation   of  guilt.     How 
would  all  your  feelings  be  shocked,  to   see  one  man 
treat  another  in  such  a  way  on  the  same  principles. 


100  SERMON  X. 

There  is  an  instance  in  modern  history  that  approx- 
imates nearer  to  it  tlian  anything  else  in  my  recol- 
lection. It  is  the  treatment  which  the  celebrated 
James  Crichton  received  from  his  pupil.  Crichton 
was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  men  which  the 
world  ever  produced.  lie  was  a  Scotchman  by  birth, 
born  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
his  extraordinary  adventures  and  endowments  pro- 
cured for  him  the  name  of  "  The  admirable  Crichton." 
At  twenty  years  of  age  he  had  run  through  the  whole 
circle  of  the  sciences,  and  could  write  and  speak  ten 
languages  in  perfection.  He  visited  the  universities 
on  the  continent,  and  foiled  all  of  the  learned  profes- 
sors in  debate,  on  theses  of  their  own  choosing.  He 
was  as  remarkable  for  his  bodily  agility,  and  his 
power  in  athletic  exercises,  as  he  was  for  the  endow- 
ments of  his  mind.  Nor  was  he  less  distinguished  for 
elegance  of  manners  and  a  singular  amenity  of  temper. 
While  travelling  in  Italy,  the  Duke  of  Mantua  was  so 
well  pleased  with  him  that  he  appointed  him  tutor  to 
his  son,  who  was  a  youth  of  dissolute  manners  and 
unprincipled  heart.  One  day  subsequent  to  this 
appointment,  while  walking  in  the  streets  of  Mantua, 
Crichton  was  suddenly  attacked  by  six  men  in  masks. 
Their  number  proved  no  defence  against  his  dexterity 
and  strength.  They  Avere  all  disarmed.  The  leader 
then  threw  off  his  mask,  and,  falling  on  his  knees,  beg- 
ged for  his  life.  It  was  Crichton's  pupil.  The  aston- 
ished master,  overwhelmed  with  the  discovery,  pre- 
sented his  own  weapon  to  his  pupil,  and,  baring  his 


SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  FORBEARANCE.       191 

bosom,  told  him  to  take  his  life  if  he  desired  it.  The 
ungrateful  wretch  plunged  the  weapon  to  the  heart  of 
Crichton.  He  first  assailed  his  best  friend  for  envy 
of  his  great  popularity.  When  the  prospect  was  in 
favor  of  summary  vengeance  upon  himself,  he  could 
beg  for  life,  and  reveal  himself  as  his  pupil,  to  secure 
forbearance;  when  that  forbearance  was  manifested, 
in  a  most  unparalleled  manner,  he  took  occasion  to  use 
it  against  his  friend. 

Impenitent  sinner,  behold  in  this  scene  embodied 
the  very  principles  which  actuate  you  in  your  treat- 
ment of  your  Saviour.  You  are  opposed  to  him  at 
first,  it  is  true,  not  for  envy,  but  it  is  for  no  more 
worthy  reason.  You  are  opposed  to  Christ,  because 
his  pure  and  holy  character  reproves  and  restrains 
you.  If  you  think  of  him  at  any  time  as  about  to 
enter  into  judgment  with  you,  you  are  ready  to  im- 
plore his  forbearance,  and  to  ask  for  length  of  days, 
that  you  may  be  prepared  to  meet  your  God.  But  if 
you  are  in  prosperity,  and  are  thinking  of  that  inno- 
cent one  as  buffeted  and  insulted,  without  resenting 
it ;  if  you  view  him  as  bleeding  and  praying,  at  the 
same  moment,  for  those  who  inflicted  his  wounds  ;  if 
you  reflect  that  his  gracious  nature  will  probably  lead 
him  to  bear  long  with  you,  then  are  you  comforted, 
and  encouraged  to  treat  him,  if  not  with  scorn,  at 
least  with  cold  neglect.  But  there  is  another  element 
in  this  delay  from  the  hope  of  impunity.  You  would 
not  readily  allow  your  heart  to  be  fully  set  in  you  to 
do  evil,  if  it  were  not  for  the  cherished  hope  that  you 


192  SERMON  X. 

shall  apply  to  that  very  mercy  which  you  now  slight, 
and  find  salvation.  You  coldly  neglect  your  Saviour, 
because  he  is  holy  and  his  laws  will  restrain  you  if  you 
yield  to  them.  You  tread  under  foot  his  precious 
blood,  because  you  are  assured  that  sentence  is  not 
executed  speedily.  You  are  encouraged  farther 
in  that  delay,  from  the  confident  expectation  that 
mercy  may  be  found  after  the  highest  possible  provo- 
cation. 

3.  The  condition  of  impenitent  sinners  is  not  less 
distill guished  for  its  pitiablenesSj  than  their  character 
is  for  its  guilt.  They  are  condemned  already.  They 
are  in  the  custody  of  the  executioner.  Why  are  you 
so  deeply  moved  with  seeing  a  condemned  criminal  in 
his  cell  ?  The  darkness  of  his  abode  tells  of  the 
dreadfulness  of  his  doom.  The  massive  walls  and 
clanking  chains  speak  of  the  impossibility  of  escape. 
But,  if  you  see  him  under  a  strong  escort,  fettered  and 
handcuffed,  on  his  way  to  the  fatal  gallows,  your  feel- 
ings of  pity  are  more  deeply  moved.  It  is  true,  the 
condemned  and  unconverted  sinner  is  not  surrounded 
with  such  visible  tokens  of  his  approaching  doom. 
But  he  is  condemned  already,  and  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  him.  He  that  believes  the  gospel  sees 
him  already  in  custody.  He  is  on  his  way  to  execu- 
tion. If  he  passes  by  a  route  ever  so  long  and  circui- 
tous, an  Almighty  keeper  attends  him.  If  he  turns 
aside  to  the  amusements  of  the  world,  the  officer  of 
justice  is  by  his  side.  If  he  laugh  in  the  theatre,  or 
dance  in  the  gay  assembly,  and  you  ask  his  keeper 


SINNERS  EMBOLDENED  BY  EORBEARANCE.       193 

whither  he  is  conducting  his  charge,  his  answer  is — to 
execution,  he  is  condemned  already.  If  he  engage 
in  his  ordinary  avocations,  that  same  Almighty  hand 
is  upon  him,  bringing  him  every  hour  nearer  to  the 
execution.  Does  he  repose  upon  his  bed,  his  keeper 
sleeps  not,  but  remains  by  his  charge.  Does  he  visit 
the  sanctuary  of  God,  he  is  still  in  custody.  The 
preacher  of  the  gospel  assures  him-  that  he  is  con- 
demned already — speaks  to  him  of  terms  of  mercy 
and  forgiveness,  and  solemnly  warns  him:  '^ Agree 
with  thine  adversary  quickly,  while  thou  art  in  the 
way  with  him,  lest  he  deliver  thee  to  the  judge,  and 
the  judge  deliver  thee  to  the  officer,  and  thou  be  cast 
into  prison."  His  keeper  whispers  to  his  inmost  soul, 
*'  condemned  already."  The  oilers  of  mercy  affect 
his  heart ;  yet  he  rises  to  depart  from  the  sanctuary, 
saying  to  the  Saviour,  ''  at  a  more  convenient  season 
I  will  call  for  thee."  Then  conscience,  aroused,  utters 
the  solemn  warning :  "  Thus  it  ever  is  with  thee, 
made  confident  by  impunity  ;  because  sentence  against 
an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily,  thy  heart  is 
fully  set  in  thee  to  do  evil."  Follow  him  in  all  the 
changes  of  his  earthly  condition,  yet  in  this,  there  is 
no,  change  ;  he  is  still  on  his  way  to  execution.  0 ! 
dying  sinner,  that  you  would  now  turn  to  Christ  ! 
You  should  exult  in  his  delivering  grace,  and  exclaim : 
"  There  is  therefore,  now,  no  condemnation  to  them 
which  are  in  Christ  Jesus." 

4.  Finally^  observe  that  toliile  Crod  delays  execu- 
tion, it  is  done  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  the  impenitent 
17 


194  SERMON  X. 

sinner  continually  in  a  crisis  of  tlie  most  awful  hind. 
Forbearance  is  exercised,  but  the  subject  of  it  is  warned, 
both  by  the  word  of  God  and  by  the  action  of  Divine 
providence,  that  there  is  not  the  least  degree  of  cer- 
tainty with  regard  to  the  period  of  its  continuance.  The 
Psalmist,  speaking  to  God  of  the  state  of  the  wicked 
in  this  world,  says:  "  Thou  didst  set  them  in  slippery 
places."  The  interpretation  of  this  passage,  according 
to  Pres.  Edwards,  is  this.  Sinners  are  represented  as 
walking  upon  a  sloping  verge,  which  overhangs  a 
gulf  of  fire.  The  path  slopes  not  only,  but  is  slippery. 
God  sets  them  there;  that  is,  it  is  as  if  he  passed 
along  with  them,  and  with  his  hand  against  their  foot 
in  every  step  kept  them  from  sliding  and  falling  into 
hell.  Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth,  take  heed 
lest  he  fall.  You  may  seem  to  yourself  to  be  in  a 
very  safe  position,  merely  because  you  have  not  fallen ; 
and  yet,  if  God  remove  his  hand,  you  sink  by  your 
own  weight — sink  never  to  rise  again.  Think  of  it, 
dying  man ;  I  conjure  you  to  think  of  it;  forbearance 
will  not  last  forever. 


SERMON   XI. 

THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD. 

The  prophet  that  hath  a  dream,  let  him  tell  a  dream  ;  and 
he  that  hath  my  word,  let  him  speak  my  word  faithfully. 
What  is  the  chaff  to  the  wheat  ?  saith  the  Lord.  Is  not  my 
word  like  as  a  fire  ?  saith  the  lord  ;  and  like  a  hammer  that 
BREAKETH  THE  ROCK  IN  PIECES  ? — Jeremiah  XXIII.  28,  29. 

Power  is  often  mightiest  where  there  is  the  least 
appearance  of  it.  We  witness  daily  the  most  stupend- 
ous results,  without  the  least  thought  of  the  amazing 
energy  by  which  they  were  achieved.  We  see  the 
excavated  channel  of  a  great  river,  and  the  up-piled 
masses  of  a  huge  mountain,  without  reflecting  at  all 
that — 

*' The  Rhone 
Ilath  spread  itself  a  couch, 
The  Alps  have  reared  a  throne." 

We  think  not  of  the  vast  power  that  wrought  in 
scooping  out  the  one,  and  upheaving  the  other. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  very  common  to  fancy  the 
presence  and  action  of  some  vast  energy,  where  there 
is  comparatively  little  else  than  a  delusive  appearance. 
When  the  prophet  Elijah  witnessed  a  great  tempest, 


196  SERMON  XI. 

and  an  earthquake  followed  with  burning  fire,  he  re- 
mained unmoved ;  but  when  he  heard  the  still,  small 
voice  that  betokened  the  Divine  presence,  he  was  awe- 
struck, and  hid  his  face  in  his  mantle. 

To  a  mind  unaccustomed  to  commune  with  God, 
those  visible  movements  of  the  great  agencies  of  na- 
ture would  have  been  overwhelming,  and  the  still, 
small  voice  would  have  been  disregarded.  That 
which  creates  an  immediate,  and  visible,  and  palpable 
change  in  the  things  around  us,  is  regarded  as  power- 
ful ;  while  that  which  operates  with  a  silent  energy, 
is  apt  to  be  unseen  except  by  wise  and  contemplative 
minds.  In  our  text,  the  false  estimate  of  the  deluded 
and  unfaithful  prophets  is  sought  to  be  corrected. 
They  could  tell  a  dream,  and  affix  their  own  inter- 
pretation, and  thus  fancy  that  they  gained  a  great 
influence  over  the  people.  But  they  did  not  perceive 
that  the  word  of  God,  faithfully  proclaimed,  would  be 
vastly  more  influential,  and  of  far  greater  value  to  all 
their  true  interests.  "  The  prophet  that  hath  a 
dream,"  says  God,  "let  him  tell  a  dream;"  that  is, 
let  him  employ  the  suggestions  thence  derived,  ac- 
cording to  their  real  importance  ;  but  do  not  let  him 
compare  them  with  the  clear  and  settled  truths  of 
revelation.  On  the  contrary,  "  He  that  hath  my 
word,  let  him  speak  my  word  faithfully.  What  is 
the  chaff  to  the  wheat  ?  saith  the  Lord.  Is  not  my 
word  like  a  fire  ?  saith  the  Lord  ;  and  like  a  hammer 
that  breaketh  the  rock  in  pieces  ?" 

The  force  of  the  whole  appeal  rests  on  the  assump- 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  197 

tion  that  there  is  vast  power  in  the  revealed  word  of 
God. 
Let  ME  SHOW  you  the  nature  of  this  power, 

AND    suggest    some    OF    THE    METHODS    BY  WHICH    ITS 
GREATNESS  IS  EVINCED. 

Every  well-informed  man  will  admit  that  the 
sacred  Scriptures  have  exercised  a  very  great  and 
widely-extended  influence.  The  nature  of  that  in- 
fluence is  not  SO  generally  appreciated.  It  is 
wholly  spiritual.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  an  influence 
on  mind.  Remotely,  indeed,  it  changes  the  phy- 
sical condition  of  things.  As  far  as  it  favors  mental 
culture,  and  creates  refined  sentiments,  and  gives 
birth  to  pure  human  charities  and  heavenly  de- 
votion, it  indirectly  improves  civilization,  and  its 
external  advantages.  It  erects  temples  of  justice, 
and  sanctuaries  of  religion,  and  gives  prominence  to 
the  arts  of  peace,  turning  "  swords  into  ploughshares 
and  spears  into  pruning-hooks."  Still,  it  achieves 
these  results  only  by  acting  on  the  human  mind — 
moulding  its  character  and  directing  its  energies. 
But,  while  the  influence  of  the  Bible  is  limited  in 
respect  to  the  subjects  of  its  influence — while  it  acts 
directly  only  on  the  human  mind — it  is  unlimited  in 
two  important  respects.  It  acts  on  all  classes  of 
mind  ;  and  it  influences  all  our  mental  faculties.  It 
enlightens  the  understanding.  It  presents  to  the 
contemplation  objects  that  are  at  once  elevated,  pure, 
and  endlessly  diversified.  It  furnishes  a  vast  amount 
of  information  in  regard  to  the  character  of  God,  the 

17* 


198  SERMON  xr, 

nature  of  man,  the  origin  and  destiny  of  the  race^ 
and  the  best  methods  of  securing  the  well-being  of 
communities  and  individuals.  It  develops  and  ¥ecti- 
fies  the  human  conscience,  furnishing  a  moral  code 
that  commends  itself  to  our  nature,  and  enforcing  it 
by  adequate  motives.  It  solicits  the  affections  of  the 
human  heart,  by  presenting  objects  of  the  purest 
moral  beauty.  It  aims  to  control  the  will,  by  reveal- 
ing the  authority  of  God,  the  sanctions  of  his  law^ 
and  the  methods  of  his  grace.  In  short,  the  word  of 
God  asserts  an  absolute  supremacy  over  all  the  powers 
and  faculties  of  the  human  mind. 

Nor  is  the  Bible,  like  most  other  books,  limited  to 
a  particular  class  and  order  of  minds.  A  book  that 
should  set  forth  the  exact  sciences  in  the  most  clear 
and  beautiful  light,  would  be  utterly  inefficacious  in 
its  influence  on  a  large  class  of  minds.  A  philoso- 
phical treatise  of  superior  excellence  and  fine  adapta- 
tion to  persons  of  a  cultivated  intellect,  would  exercise 
no  influence  on  multitudes  that  possess  less  compass 
of  understanding.  But  the  Bible  is  adapted  to  all 
classes.  It  has  simple  narrative  and  infant  biogra- 
phies, and  lofty  sentiments,  and  profound  doctrines, 
wrapped  up  in  the  tragical  story  of  the  cross,  to 
interest  childhood  and  untaught  adults.  It  has  sub- 
lime and  beautiful  poetry  for  the  imaginative.  It  has 
pointed  and  weighty  apothegms  to  aAvaken  reflection. 
It  has  deep  logical  discussions,  and  an  immense  field  for 
critical  and  philosophical  study  for  the  learned.  Its 
sixty-six  books,  written  by  at  least  thirty-five  different 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD.      199 

autlioi^s,  and  extending  through  a  period  of  fifteen 
centuries,  have  secured  a  vast  variety  of  style.  There 
is  also  a  remarkable  variety  in  the  characters,  em- 
ployments, and  circumstances  of  the  writers.  Among 
them  we  have  one  educated  as  a  statesman  in  the 
court  of  a  great  monarch ;  another  brought  up  as  an 
ecclesiastic  from  his  infancy,  and  possessing  such 
capacity  as  caused  him,  in  his  youth,  to  be  regarded 
as  the  guiding  mind  for  the  whole  Hebrew  common- 
wealth. Two  royal  poets,  a  gifted  father,  and  a  more 
learned,  and  wise,  and  cultivated  son,  arrayed  the 
truth  of  God  in  kingly  robes.  Herdsmen  set  it  forth 
in  rustic  simplicity.  Unlearned  fishermen  told  the 
story  of  the  birth  and  life,  the  miracles,  and  death, 
and  resurrection  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  recorded  the 
parables  and  conversations  of  him  who  "  spake  as 
never  man  spake."  An  accomplished  scholar  and 
beloved  physician  penned  the  narrative  of  the  first 
dissemination  of  Christianity  by  the  apostles,  while  a 
profound  dialectician  drew  out  in  his  homiletic  epis- 
tles the  great  principles  of  systematic  theology,  and 
the  transcendental  deep-thinking  John  set  forth  the 
life-principles  of  Christianity,  in  a  manner  that  will 
always  give  plenty  of  employment  to  those  who  love 
to  contemplate  truth  in  a  mystic  garb. 

These  varieties  in  revelation,  like  the  varieties  in 
nature,  have  adaptation  to  all  classes  and  orders  of 
mind.  Hence  there  is  no  book  so  popular  in  its  cha- 
racter as  the  Bible.  It  is  relished  and  comprehended 
by   the    feeblest    minds.     It    furnishes    exhaustless 


200  SERMON  XL 

themes  for  the  profoundest  geniuses.  In  its  limpid 
^vate^s,  a  lamb  may  safely  wade  and  seek  refresh- 
ment ;  in  its  depth,  an  elephant  may  swim. 

The  kind  of  power  claimed  for  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures, then,  be  it  remembered,  is  a  spiritual  power, 
an  influence  on  mind.  The  domain  over  which  this 
influence  extends  itself  is  unlimited  in  two  respects. 
Firsts  it  asserts  its  supremacy  over  all  the  faculties 
of  the  human  soul.  Second^  it  adapts  itself  to  minds 
of  all  classes. 

Let  me  solicit  your  attention,  now,  to  some  of  the 
indications  of  the  greatness  of  this  power.  I  will 
speak  first  of  the  general  influence  of  the  word  of 
God,  and  then  of  its  power  over  individuals.  Divine 
revelation  has  exerted  an  influence  to  impress  upon  a 
vast  mass  of  minds  common  sentiments,  and,  also,  to 
secure  the  growth  and  perpetuation  of  such  sentiments. 

This  power  is  the  more  remarkable,  in  proportion 
to  the  resistance  which  it  was  necessary  to  overcome. 
When  the  first  books  of  holy  Scripture,  the  Penta- 
teuch, w^ere  issued,  it  is  manifest  that  their  primary 
aim  was  to  oppose  idolatry.  Idol-worship  had  en- 
trenched itself  in  every  great  city.  A  grovelling 
sensuality  loved  licentious  gods  and  goddesses.  The 
refinements  of  art  endeared  it  to  one  class;  the 
charms  of  poetry  commended  it  to  another ;  and  a 
grovelling  superstition  pervaded  all  nations.  The 
propensities  that  led  to  idolatry  were  powerful  to 
perpetuate  it.  The  priests  and  learned  men  main- 
tained their  ascendency  by  pandering  to  the  super- 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OE  GOD.  201 

stition  of  the  people ;   the  shrine-makers  had  their 
bread  by  their  craft. 

Yet  the  decalogue  makes  an  assault  upon  idolatry, 
and  the  whole  Jewish  institute  is  constructed  to  op- 
pose it.  The  progress  was  slow.  The  Jewish  mind 
itself  was  deeply  tinged  with  the  prevailing  polytheism. 
But  the  decalogue  maintained  its  authority.  The  law 
which  made  it  imperative  on  parents  to  imbue  the 
minds  of  their  children  with  the  ten  commandments, 
by  a  perpetual  inculcation,  augmented  its  power  over 
the  people.  The  successive  revelations  of  the  pro- 
phets expanded  and  illustrated  the  principles  con- 
tained in  the  earlier  books  of  Scripture.  The  advance 
of  the  Hebrew  state  to  its  acme,  in  the  splendid 
reign  of  Solomon,  and  the  erection  of  the  magnifi- 
cent temple,  imparted  a  public,  visible  honor  to  the 
pure  theism  of  the  sacred  writings.  The  conflict  of 
the  Jewish  people  with  their  heathen  neighbors,  and 
especially  their  captivities,  and  their  pensive  songs 
by  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  endeared  to  them  the  dis- 
tinctive characteristics  of  the  religion  of  their  fathers. 

When  they  had  thus  become  determined  in  their 
resistance  to  idolatry,  the  great  conquering  power  of 
the  world,  the  Romans,  took  possession  of  Palestine, 
and  the  synagogue,  with  its  book  of  the  law^  and  its 
prophetic  rolls,  bore  a  feeble,  but  constant  testimony, 
in  a  thousand  little  points  of  radiance,  all  over  that 
mighty  empire.  Then  came  Christianity,  with  its 
augmented  light,  completing  the  whole  volume  of  ro 
velation  within  a  single  century. 


202  SERMON  XI. 

And  now  the  word  of  God  begins  to  display  its  mighty 
power.  It  assails  idolatry  where  it  has  concentrated 
its  force,  more  than  it  had  ever  done,  in  any  place,  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  the  world's  history.  Idolatry  was 
the  religion  of  the  most  cultivated  people  on  earth. 
It  was  inwoven  with  a  classic  literature  of  most  extra- 
ordinary character.  The  Romans  had,  just  before, 
taken  into  their  possession  those  writings  of  the  Gre- 
cian orators,  and  poets,  and  historians,  and  philoso- 
phers, which  have  ever  since  defied  all  competition  in 
respect  to  their  classical  beauty  and  finish.  By  the 
help  of  these  they  had  advanced  their  own  majestic 
tongue  to  its  highest  cultivation.  Into  all  this  ele- 
gant literature  there  was  breathed  as  base  a  polythe- 
ism as  ever  degraded  a  polished  mind.  This  same 
polytheism  was,  also,  the  religion  of  the  state.  It 
seated  itself  with  gorgeous  and  solemn  pomp  in  the 
senate  chamber;  it  approached  the  emperor  with  art- 
ful flattery,  and  promised  him  a  glorious  apotheosis, 
a  place  among  the  gods,  as  one  justly  entitled  to  be 
worshipped.  Idolatry  was  the  old  religion  of  the 
wdiole  Roman  people ;  the  religion  under  which  its 
victories  had  been  achieved,  and  its  greatness  attain- 
ed. It  was  loved  by  the  multitude,  praised  by  the 
poets,  endeared  by  flatteries  to  the  emperor,  and  de- 
fended by  the  conquering  legions.  Yet,  did  the 
word  of  God,  as  a  fire  and  a  hammer,  break  in  pieces 
that  mighty  iron  power  of  idolatry. 

It  is  sufficiently  obvious  that  it  was  the  word  of 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD.      203 

God,  and  nothing  else,  which  accomplished  this  re- 
sult. 

It  is  worthy  of  being  noticed  in  this  connection, 
also,  that  another  effective  force  was  brought  to  act 
against  idolatry,  which,  though  not  so  directly  from 
the  influence  of  the  word  of  God,  cannot  be  im- 
puted to  any  other  primary  source.  I  mean  the 
Mohammedan  power.  The  Arabs  were  the  cousins 
of  the  Jews,  and  partook  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
Hebrew  stock.  When  Ishmael  was  sent  away,  he 
doubtless  bore  with  him  some  of  those  constitutional 
tendencies  to  theism,  which  were  among  the  reasons 
for  selecting  and  calling  Abraham. 

The  mission  of  Abraham  was  to  give  a  death-blow 
to  idolatry.  Isaac  was  the  chief  branch  in  the  family 
for  accomplishing  the  work.  But  Ishmael  inherited 
some  of  his  father's  idol  hatred.  His  posterity,  it  is 
true,  fell  into  idol  worship  ;  but,  then,  they  never 
lost  the  tendency  to  theism,  and  when  Mohammed 
borrowed  from  Judaism  and  Christianity  the  doctrine 
of  the  Divine  unity,  he  easily  moulded  the  Ishmaelitish 
stock  into  his  doctrines. 

What  the  word  of  God  has  achieved,  in  this  respect, 
it  has  perpetuated.  The  Jews  and  the  Mohammedans 
are,  to-day,  as  firm  in  their  resistance  of  idolatry  as 
they  ever  have  been  in  any  former  period  of  their 
history.  It  is  true,  there  has  been  a  reactive  force 
towards  idolatry,  on  the  area  of  the  old  Roman  em- 
pire, as  indicated  in  the  images  in  Christian  churches, 
and  the  worship  of  the  mother  of  Jesus ;   but  this 


204  SERMON  XI. 

could  only  take  place  wlien  the  Bible  was  locked  up 
in  the  cloister,  and  forbidden  to  the  common  people; 
but  the  word  of  God  could  not  be  bound.  Wickliff, 
and  the  Monk  of  Erfurth,  Ileuklin,  and  Melancthon, 
Calvin,  and  Farel,  and  Zuingle,  and  Knox,  read  the 
word  of  God,  and  it  kindled  a  fire  in  their  souls. 
They  gave  it  to  the  people,  and,  wherever  it  went, 
the  altars  of  an  idolatrous  Christianity  crumbled,  and 
the  images  of  the  saints  were  ground  to  powder.  As 
a  result  of  this  attainment,  the  Christian  world  is 
now  assailing,  in  an  effective  manner,  the  idolatry  of 
every  heathen  nation.  No  idolatrous  people,  now  on 
the  earth,  can  be  called  a  conquering  people.  No 
system  of  idol-worship  possesses  the  spirit  of  propa- 
gandism.  The  Romish  church  is  not,  strictly  speak- 
ing, an  idolatrous  power.  Its  state  is  like  that  of 
Jacob's  family,  when  Rachel  hid  the  images  among 
her  travelling  baggage,  or  like  that  of  the  children  of 
Israel,  when  they  danced  around  the  golden  calf,  with- 
out abandoning  the  worship  of  Jehovah  as  the  only 
supreme  God.  They  were  struggling  with  idolatrous 
tendencies,  tendencies  which  were  destined,  one  day, 
to  be  overcome.  So  the  Romish  church  has  always 
carried  in  her  bosom  a  repellent  force,  that  shall,  one 
day,  secure  the  putting  away  of  all  her  idols.  Pro- 
testantism itself,  with  all  its  active  energy,  grew  out 
of  these  tendencies  in  the  mother  church.  The  reac- 
tion from  the  impostures  respecting  the  holy  coat  of 
Treves,  the  march  of  science,  and  of  political  liberty, 
and  the  mixing  of  Romanists  with  enlightened  people 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  205 

in  Protestant  countries  ;  all  these  things  are  limiting 
the  power  of  the  idolatrous  tendencies  in  the  church; 
and  the  time  cannot  be  far  distant,  when  the  whole  of 
Christendom  shall  be  as  free  from  idols  as  the  Jewish 
and  Mohammedan  races  are  to-day. 

The  reason  why  the  Christian  church  is  tinged  with 
this  form  of  error  is  obvious.  In  the  first  four  centuries 
of  the  Christian  era,  idolaters  were  brought  into  the 
church  by  such  rapid  conversions,  that  multitudes  im- 
ported with  them  a  measure  of  that  love  of  image- 
worship,  in  which  they  had  been  bred  and  born. 

There  is  another  impression  which  the  word  of  God 
has  made  upon  immense  masses  of  mind,  and  which 
it  has  perpetuated  to  the  present  time ;  I  mean  the 
law  of  marriage.     Polygamy  and  idolatry  have  always 
been  united ;  their  union  is  not  accidental ;  they  pos- 
sess mutual  affinities.     The  gods  and  goddesses  of  the 
heathen   are    distinguished   for    their   licentiousness. 
Polygamy,  and  a  general  concubinage,  naturally  grow 
up  out  of  idolatry,  while,  by  a  reciprocal  tendency, 
licentiousness  conduces  to  the  worship  of  voluptuous 
divinities.      The  word  of  God  from  the  beginning, 
and  by  the  very  history  of  the  first  pair,  repressed 
this  tendency.      The  progress  was   slow,  it  is  true, 
during  the  existence  of  the  Jewish  dispensation ;   but 
still,  there  was  progress,  and  our  Saviour's  teachings 
in  respect  to  marriage  and  divorce,  and  Paul's  Epis- 
tles, in  settling  the  practice  of  the  primordial  Christ- 
ian church,  laid  the  foundation  of  a  new  public  sen- 
timent in  respect  to  polygamy,  and  the  proper,  and 
18 


206  SERMON  XL 

life-long  connection  of  one  man  and  one  Tvoman  Ly 
the  sacred  bonds  of  Christian  marriage  ;  it  is  true, 
this  sentiment  is  not  so  widely  extended  as  that  which 
has  respect  to  idolatrous  worship ;  for,  pure  as  was 
the  Mohammedan  religion  in  respect  to  one  object  of 
worship,  it  had  not  sufficient  moral  purity  and  force 
to  resist  the  tendencies  to  polygamy  in  the  oriental 
mind.  But,  wherever  the  whole  word  of  God  has 
gone,  with  its  accompanying  Christian  institutions,  it 
has  created  and  established  the  general  impression,  that 
the  marriage  of  one  man  with  one  woman  is  divinely 
authorized,  and  that  all  other  alliances  of  the  sexes 
are  an  offence  against  good  morals.  That  there  are 
multiplied  violations  of  this  law  in  Christendom  is 
not,  indeed,  denied ;  but  it  is,  nevertheless,  an  indica- 
tion of  the  mighty  power  of  the  word  of  God,  that  it 
has  created  this  law  of  marriage  and  impressed  it  so 
widely,  and  given  it  such  a  sanctuary  in  social  life, 
and  armed  all  the  governments  of  Christendom  in  its 
defence. 

The  power  of  the  word  of  God  is  not  less  clearly 
indicated  in  the  influence  which  it  has  infused  into 
civil  government.  The  decalogue,  and  that  portion 
of  the  civil  code  of  the  Jews,  under  the  theocracy, 
which  grew  out  of  the  decalogue,  exercise  a  leading 
influence  in  all  constitutional  Christian  governments. 
Nor  can  there  be  any  doubt  that  everything  worthy 
of  the  name  of  civil  liberty  has  its  origin  in  the  word 
of  God.  The  government  of  the  judges^,  during  the 
period  of  the  Hebrew  commonwealth,   was   the  first 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  207 

experiment  of  which  we  know  anything  of  a  free 
government.  There,  all  the  people,  except  a  small 
number  of  domestic  servants,  whose  condition  was 
very  much  like  that  of  minor  children  in  the  family, 
all  the  people,  with  this  trifling  exception,  were  in  the 
enjoyment  of  equal  rights.  The  government  was 
strictly  elective,  and  qualifications  rather  than  birth 
placed  men  in  all  the  offices  of  the  state.  The  des- 
potisms by  which  that  little  hated  Palestine  was  sur- 
rounded were  most  iron-handed  governments.  The 
Grecian  republic  was  not  much  better.  We  are  de- 
ceived by  the  name  of  a  republic,  till  we  reflect  that 
when  the  population  of  Attica  consisted  of  five  hun- 
dred thousand,  there  were  only  twenty  thousand  free 
citizens  managing  and  enjoying  the  government  for 
themselves.  That  is  to  say,  more  than  twenty  human 
beings,  subjects  of  the  government,  labored  for  the 
support  of  each  free  citizen.  The  democracy  of 
Athens  difi'ered  from  a  monarchy  only  in  this :  twenty 
thousand  autocrats  were  to  be  supported  by  the  people 
instead  of  a  single  royal  family. 

After  the  example  of  a  free  elective  government 
had  been  exhibited  in  the  Hebrew  commonwealth  for 
four  centuries,  the  word  of  God  achieved  nothing 
directly  for  civil  liberty  till  the  church  gradually 
absorbed  into  itself  the  power  of  the  western  empire. 
When  the  western  empire  was  subverted  by  the  incur- 
sions of  the  Northmen,  the  church  softened  the  power 
of  the  conquerors,  and  lined  with  velvet  the  yoke 
which  it  could  not  at  first  break  or  remove.     As  the 


208  SERxMON  XI. 

church  gained  in  power  she  created  a  despotism  of  her 
own ;  but  it  was  a  milder  despotism  than  the  secular 
powers  with  which  it  was  in  conflict. 

Let  me  pause  here,  one  moment,  to  remark  on  a 
general  delusion  which  exists  in  respect  to  the  despo- 
tism of  the  Romish  church.  Despotic  and  cruel,  in- 
deed, it  is,  in  comparison  with  English  monarchy  and 
American  republicanism.  But  Popery  was  a  mild, 
and  gentle,  and  people-loving  government  compared 
w^ith  the  insolence  and  selfishness  of  the  old  barons, 
and  kings,  and  the  powers  of  the  empire.  In  the  old 
Guelph  and  Ghibeline  controversy  there  was  more  of 
right,  or  at  least  less  of  selfish  ambition  in  the  Guelph 
than  in  the  Ghibeline  party;  there  was  more  regard 
for  the  popular  well-being  in  the  church  than  in  the 
empire.  Hence,  though  a  haughty  and  imperious  am- 
bition dictated  the  act  when  the  Roman  pontiff  placed 
his  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  prostrate  monarchy  apply- 
ing to  himself  the  prediction  found  in  the  ninety-first 
Psalm,  "  Thou  shalt  tread  upon  the  lion  and  adder," 
still,  it  was  true  that  of  the  two  despotisms  that  ruled  in 
Christendom  the  gentler  oi:^  then  had  the- ascendency. 

But  no  sooner  had  the  Bible  been  brought  out  to 
the  people  thaa  the  cause  of  civil  liberty  began  to 
revive. 

Any  one  at  all  acquainted  with  history  can  see  that 
the  British  constitution  is  the  product  of  the  word  of 
God.  Our  own  free  republic  sprang  up  most  mani- 
festly and  directly  from  the  same  source.  There  was 
a  remarkable  analogy  between   our  government  and 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD.      209 

that  of  the  Hebrew  commonwealth.  Like  that,  it 
consisted  originally  of  thirteen  States,  including 
twelve  tribes  and  the  half  tribe  of  Manasseh,  united 
in  one  general  government.  So  constant  were  the 
allusions  to  Israelitish  liberty  in  our  colonies  that  a 
member  of  our  Congress  once  remarked  that,  in  his 
native  New  England,  during  the  years  of  boyhood, 
he  had  no  other  idea  than  that  we,  as  a  people,  were 
the  real  literal  Israel  of  which  he  had  read  in  the  Old 
Testament. 

It  ought  to  be  mentioned  in  this  connection  that 
the  power  of  the  word  of  God  is  indicated  by  the  fact 
that  it  has  passed  along  in  the  current  of  the  most 
vigorous  races,  and  swayed  most  perfectly  those  na- 
tions which  possess  the  greatest  power.  The  Bible 
began  its  work  in  a  race  of  inconsiderable  culture. 
But  it  raised  the  Jewish  people  in  no  inconsiderable 
degree.  Then  it  seized  on  the  Roman  mind  and  mas- 
tered it.  Thence  it  entered  the  households  of  the 
Northmen,  in  the  garb  of  a  conquered  power,  and 
Christianized  its  masters.  When  it  made  its  way  out 
of  the  monastery  it  acted  not  on  effeminate  Chinese, 
or  indolent  and  unthinking  Hindoos.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  laid  hold  of  the  German,  the  English,  and 
the  Scottish  mind.  Into  this  vigorous  mass  it  has 
infused  a  mighty  power.  It  has  imbued  their  litera- 
ture, gained  a  sway  over  their  universities,  moulded 
their  social  and  civil  institutions,  and  given  character 
to  their  worship. 

Nor  is  the  power  of  the  Bible  less  conspicuous  in 

18* 


210  SERMON  XI. 

its  influence  on  individuals.  See  its  action  on  Saul 
of  Tarsus.  His  mind  certainly  was  no  ordinary  one. 
He  was  acute,  educated,  and  firm  of  purpose.  As  a 
religionist  he  was  zealous,  and  pledged  to  oppose 
Christianity.  He  was  exceedingly  mad  against  the 
church,  and  verily  believed  that  he  ought  to  do  many 
things  contrary  to  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  He  was  proud 
and  self-sufficient,  and  fancied  that  he  could  justify 
himself  before  God  by  his  shining  virtues.  Yet  all 
this  opposition  was  subdued.  He  was  made  to  glory 
in  nothing  but  the  cross,  and  to  count  not  even  his 
life  dear  to  him  if  he  might  successfully  publish  the 
gospel. 

Augustine  was  another  instance  illustrating  the 
power  of  the  word  of  God.  He  was  famous  already 
for  his  learning,  and  equally  famous  for  his  pride  and 
self-consequence,  till  the  word  of  God,  accompanied 
by  a  mother's  prayers,  constrained  him  to  bring  all 
his  high  mental  endowments,  and  learning,  and  influ- 
ence, and  lay  them  on  the  altar  of  Christianity. 
Place  beside  these  such  minds  as  those  of  Grotius, 
and  Melancthon,  and  Luther,  and  Calvin,  and  Boyle, 
and  Bacon,  and  Locke,  and  Cuvier,  and  Brougham, 
and  Chalmers  ;  and  who  can  doubt  that  there  is  a 
mighty  power  in  the  word  of  God  ?  These  great 
minds  did  not  embrace  Christianity  as  a  matter  of 
policy,  as  many  ambitious  ecclesiastics  have  done. 
On  the  contrary,  the  Bible  commanded  their  faith, 
and  controlled  their  mental  powers.  By  a  similar 
power,  the  sacred  Scriptures  have  met  the  most  stub- 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  211 

born  and  gifted  unbelievers;  and  even  many  who 
united  vicious  propensities  with  their  scepticism,  and 
changed  them  into  humble  and  teachable  disciples  of 
Christ. 

To  all  this  might  be  added  the  wonderful  influence 
of  the  word  of  God  in  sustaining  men  in  suffering, 
and  in  death.  But  I  hasten  to  conclude,  with  briefly 
remarking  on  the  power  of  the  Bible  to  multiply  and 
spread  itself.  There  are  plants  in  our  botany  that 
possess  a  remarkable  power  of  self-semination.  Some 
are  inclosed  in  a  pericarp  that  bursts  with  an  elastic 
spring,  and  throws  the  seed  in  every  direction,  and  to 
a  great  distance.  Other  seeds  are  mounted  on  wings, 
by  which  they  are  borne  on  the  winds  to  distant 
localities.  The  Divine  providence  has  an  analogous 
contrivance  in  the  power  of  the  Bible  to  secure  its 
dissemination.  Its  truths  spring  up  and  ripen  in 
individual  minds.  They  generate  dispositions  to 
spread  the  word  of  God.  The  Bible  has  made  Bible 
Societies.  The  Bible  has  called  forth  Bible  distri- 
butors. The  Bible  has  awakened  a  liberal  spirit  and 
unclasped  a  thousand  hands  of  avarice,  to  furnish 
means  for  translating,  printing,  and  disseminating  the 
word  of  God.  The  Bible  is  ordained  to  give  itself  to 
all  nations,  to  plant  itself  in  every  family,  to  take 
possession  of  every  mind.  Its  power  is  ultimately  to 
achieve  a  conquest  over  the  human  race.  Who  of 
you  will  help  it,  by  your  contributions,  your  prayers, 
your  inculcations  of  its  holy  doctrines  ?  Take  cou- 
rage in  your  work.     The  word  of  God  is  not  bound. 


212  SERMON  xr. 

It  goes  forth  from  conquering  to  conquer.  Its  pro- 
gress, in  some  respects,  is  slow.  It  has  enemies  still 
to  contend  with.  The  powers  of  darkness  will  not 
yield  merely  because  idolatry  has  received  a  death- 
blow, and  social  life  is  becoming  sweetened  by  the 
prevalence  of  a  just  law  in  relation  to  marriage ;  nor 
because  civil  liberty  has  received  its  life  from  the 
Bible.  Pseudo-philanthropists  and  smatterers  in  sci- 
ence will  assail  it  as  a  good  book  that  has  lived  long 
and  done  well ;  but  as  a  book  which  has  had  its  day. 
They  will  propose  an  eclectic  system  of  morality  and 
religion.  They  will  allow  Christian  precepts  to  be  its 
basis,  because  these  have  acquired  too  much  honor  to 
be  openly  despised.  The  battle  with  this  mongrel 
system  of  religion  and  philosophy  is  the  last  conflict. 
The  best  way  to  meet  it  is  to  spread  the  word  of  God. 
Put  it  into  the  hands  of  all  the  people.  It  will  work 
its  own  way.  It  is  as  a  fire,  and  as  a  hammer  that 
breaketh  the  rock  in  pieces.  Meantime  let  us  see  to 
it,  as  individuals,  that  we  receive  the  Divine  word  in 
its  simplicity  into  our  hearts.  It  will  mould  our  cha- 
racters. It  will  sanctify  our  souls.  It  will  be  in  us  a 
w^ell  of  water,  springing  up  into  everlasting  life.  The 
Bible  contains  a  full  supply  for  all  your  wants,  as  a 
moral,  an  accountable,  and  an  immortal  being.  It 
can  break  up  the  slumbers  of  a  self-complacent  spirit, 
by  the  power  of  its  holy  and  heart-searching  law.  It 
reveals  a  bleeding  Saviour,  and  leads  you  to  his  cross 
for  pardon.  It  directs  you  to  plead  for  the  illumina- 
tions of  the  Divine  Spirit.     Yet,  with  all  its  power, 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  WORD  OP  GOD.  213 

it  has  created  no  necessity  for  your  salvation.  It 
can  enlighten  benighted  minds  ;  and  you,  as  an  indi- 
vidual, may  grope  in  spiritual  midnight.  It  may 
inspire  others  with  hopes  of  glory,  and  you  may  be 
wrapped  in  eternal  despair.  You  may  behold,  and 
wonder,  and  perish. 


SERMON   XII. 

A  father's  influence. 

But  as  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Loud, — 
Joshua  XXIV.  15. 

What  a  noble  resolution  !  At  any  time  such  a 
purpose  would  do  honor  to  the  heart  that  should  adopt 
it.  But  at  the  time,  and  in  the  circumstances,  in 
which  this  purpose  was  announced,  it  Avas  a  delightful 
instance  of  godliness  and  manly  zeal. 

The  people  of  Israel  had  just  passed  through  a  se- 
ries of  peculiar  trials  and  temptations,  and  were  now 
about  to  enter  upon  a  condition  which,  above  all  others, 
is  apt  to  become  a  snare  to  the  careless.  They  were 
entering  upon  their  goodly  land,  and  confidently  an- 
ticipating the  utmost  prosperity.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances, Joshua  recounted  to  them  the  Divine 
mercies,  in  delivering  them  from  their  enemies,  and 
in  bringing  them  to  the  peaceful  possession  of  their 
promised  inheritance.  "Now,  therefore,"  said  he, 
"fear  the  Lord,  and  serve  him  in  sincerity  and  truth: 
and  put  away  the  gods  which  your  fathers  served  on 
the  other  side  of  the  flood,  and  in  Egypt;  and 
serve  ye  the  Lord.     And  if  it  seem  evil  unto  you 


A  father's  influence.  215 

to  serve  the  Lord,  choose  you  this  day  whom  ye  will 
serve ;  whether  the  gods  which  your  fathers  served, 
that  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  flood,  or  the  gods 
of  the  Amorites  in  whose  land  ye  dwell :  but  as  for 
me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord."  The 
propriety  of  one's  resolving,  in  humble  reliance  on 
Divine  grace,  to  serve  the  Lord,  will  scarcely  be  ques- 
tioned by  any  that  have  been  instructed  in  the  doc- 
trines and  precepts  of  Christianity.  But  the  wisdom 
of  associating  one's  family  with  himself,  and  pledg- 
ing himself  alike  for  his  own  future  character,  and 
that  of  his  household,  will  appear  to  many  as  a  more 
doubtful  matter ;  yet,  I  hope,  when  the  influences  for 
securing  such  a  result  shall  have  been  fully  set  forth, 
the  Christian  father  will  be  enabled  to  speak  confi- 
dently, both  for  himself  and  for  his  children,  and  to 
say,  with  Joshua,  "  As  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will 
serve  the  Lord."     Our  subject  is, 

THE  POWER  OF  A  FATHER  TO  BLESS  HIS  FAMILY. 

In  the  prosecution  of  my  design,  I  shall  be  led  to 
speak  of  the  structure  of  family  government :  the  se- 
curities that  exist  against  the  abuses  of  its  powers 
and  privileges  :  the  identity  of  household  interests  : 
the  advantao-es  of  a  father  for  formino-  the  character 
of  his  children  by  instruction,  and  the  promised  aids 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  father  of  a  family  occupies 
a  station  full  of  dignity  and  honor.  To  his  household 
he  is,  in  a  more  important  sense  than  Moses  was  to 
the  people  of  Israel,  in  the  place  of  God.     Though  in 


216  SERMON  XII. 

the  elevation  of  his  being  and  character,  infinitely 
below  his  Maker,  he  holds  relations  to  his  offspring 
strikingly  analogous  to  those  of  Creator,  Lawgiver, 
and  Judge.  They  depend  on  him,  implicitly,  to  sup- 
ply their  daily  wants  ;  and  regard  him  as  the  source 
of  all  authority,  and  all  right  instruction.  These 
analogies  impart  a  solemnity  to  paternal  authority, 
and  give  to  it  a  sway  which  thousands  feel,  without 
ever  having  analyzed  the  influence  that  thus  binds 
them  as  with  a  secret  and  mysterious  spell. 

As  the  head  of  a  little  kingdom,  the  father  com- 
mences the  exercise  of  his  government  over  an  empire 
of  very  limited  extent.  His  authority  is  commonly 
exerted,  in  the  first  instance,  over  a  solitary  child. 
While  the  affairs  of  his  realm  are  in  this  nascent  and 
simple  state,  he  has  the  advantage  of  leisure  for  a 
calm  self-discipline,  and  for  deliberately  settling  great 
first  principles.  As  his  subjects  become  more  nume- 
rous, and  some  of  them  are  advancing  into  the  regions 
of  independent  thought  and  action,  his  work  becomes 
more  complicated  and  difficult.  It  would  now  afford 
scope  for  the  wisdom  and  accomplishments  of  Solo- 
mon ;  and  really  demands  the  lofty  purpose  and  un- 
complying firmness  of  Joshua,  when  he  exclaimed, 
"■  As  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord." 
Paternal  government,  according  to  the  constitution 
wiiich  God  has  given  it,  is  a  wonderful  instrument. 
It  brino;s  together  and  holds  in  harmonious  action 
principles,  which,  under  every  other  kind  of  earthly 
dominion,  are   destructive  of  one  another.     It  is  at 


A  father's  influence.  217 

once  absolute  and  flexible,  invested  with  awful  power, 
and  yet  breathing  a  spirit  of  gentleness.  Its  pecu- 
liarities, however,  may  be  most  happily  portrayed  by 
comparing  it  with  the  modes  of  government  that  have 
obtained  in  other  relations. 

For  the  exercise  of  civil  rule  God  has  not  ordained 
any  specific  form.  It  may  be  a  monarchy,  absolute 
or  mixed.  It  may  be  an  oligarchy,  in  which  the  few 
of  a  privileged  class  govern  the  many.  It  may  be  a 
representative  popular  government,  like  our  own :  or, 
it  may  be  a  pure  democracy,  originating  all  laws, 
and  framing  all  important  decisions  in  the  primary 
assemblies  of  the  people.  Some  of  these  forms,  it  is 
true,  are  less  liable  to  abuse  than  others.  But  they 
are  all  begirt  with  dangers.  A  vigorous  sustentation 
of  authority  may  be  easily  hardened  into  an  iron 
despotism.  The  love  of  freedom  may  with  equal  fa- 
cility degenerate  into  licentious  misrule,  terminating 
in  the  horrors  of  anarchy.  Civil  government,  then, 
is  not  a  single  divinely  constituted  mode  of  exerting 
good  influences.  It  is  rather  an  ever-varying  result 
of  the  various  feelings,  and  principles,  and  characters 
of  the  nations. 

In  contrast  with  this,  household  government  stands 
forth  as  a  Divine  institute.  Like  a  machine  constituted 
independently  of  the  material  upon  which  it  is  des- 
tined to  act,  it  is  prepared  before  its  subjects  are  in 
being,  and  then  they  are  created,  and  brought  and 
placed  under  its  dominion  successively,  one  by  one,  to 
be  controlled  and  moulded  by  its  influence. 
19 


218  SERMON  xir. 

If  the  government  of  the  family  be  compared  Avith 
that  of  the  church,  the  result  is  not  dissimilar. 

No  exact  and  divinely  authorized  form  of  ecclesias- 
tical polity  has  been  given  to  mankind.  General  prin- 
ciples only,  in  relation  to  this  subject,  are  set  forth  in 
the  sacred  Scriptures.  The  parity  of  the  clergy  is 
maintained.  Ministers  of  the  word  are  required  to 
be  faithful  as  the  bishops  of  their  own  congregations, 
and  if  they  obtain  any  distinction  among  their  breth- 
ren, they  are  at  liberty  to  seek  it  only  by  becoming 
more  manifestly  the  servants  of  all,  and  by  surpassing 
others  in  works  of  humility,  benevolence,  and  self- 
denial.  The  right  of  acting  by  representation,  also, 
is  clearly  recognized  in  the  appointments  made  by  the 
first  Christian  churches,  both  of  officers  to  act  for 
them  in  discipline,  and  also  of  spiritual  teachers  to 
given  fields  of  missionary  labor,  and  to  special  commis- 
sions of  almsgiving  to  destitute  and  distant  churches. 
But  in  the  Scriptures  there  are  no  enactments  laying 
down  a  detailed  form  of  ecclesiastical  government. 
Indeed,  it  is  quite  manifest  that  God  intended  no  such 
thing,  from  the  undeniable  fact  that  the  principal 
portion  of  the  church,  in  every  Christian  country,  has 
taken  on  a  form  analo<]rous  to  the  civil  organization  un- 
der  which  it  exists.  In  despotic  countries,  it  is  mainly 
papal ;  in  the  monarchy  of  England,  prelatical ;  and, 
in  this  country,  the  tendency  is  nearly  as  strong  to- 
wards some  modification  of  presbytery.  It  is  true, 
the  character  of  civil  government,  in  various  parts  of 
Christendom,  may  have  been  formed,  in  a  considerable 


A  father's  influence.  219 

degree,  by  the  previously  existing  ecclesiastical  go- 
vernments. It  is  equally  obvious,  however,  that  the 
ecclesiastical  has  been  modified  by  the  civil.  They 
act  reciprocally  upon  each  other.  In  this  interaction, 
sometimes  one  predominates,  and  sometimes  the  other ; 
but,  after  all  the  experience  and  investigations  of  men, 
for  centuries,  there  seems  to  be  no  tendency  even  to- 
wards a  uniform  system  of  church  government,  as 
sustained  in  all  its  peculiarities  by  the  authority  of 
God ;  on  the  contrary,  in  every  church  w^here  freedom 
of  thought  prevails  to  any  considerable  extent,  there 
is  a  portion,  and  that  the  more  intelligent  and  liberal 
portion,  which  maintains  that  even  its  own  chosen 
system  of  ecclesiastical  polity  cannot  be  sustained  as 
divinely  authorized  in  all  its  details. 

But  there  is  a  broad  and  palpable  distinction  be- 
tween both  of  these  kinds  of  government,  civil  and 
ecclesiastical  on  the  one  hand,  and  family  government 
on  the  other. 

Family  government  is  by  a  Divine  right.  Its  form 
is  that  of  an  absolute  monarchy.  The  father  is  a 
sovereign.  His  will  is  law,  and  from  his  decisions 
there  is  no  appeal.  The  entire  interests  of  the  house- 
hold are  under  his  control.  The  subjects  are  all 
peers.  Among  them  there  are  no  inequalities  of 
rights  ;  no  oflSces.  The  superiority  of  influence  which 
belongs  to  some  members,  arises  only  from  seniority, 
and  a  consequently  superior  advancement  in  expe- 
rience, and  in  wisdom,  and  virtue.  There  can  be  no 
question  that   such  a  government  is  divinely  consti- 


220  SERxMON  XII. 

tuted.  The  monarch,  by  the  vast  superiority  of  his 
age  and  physical  vigor,  as  Tvell  as  by  the  maturity  of 
his  intellectual  powers,  and  his  heartfelt  interest  in 
the  well-being  of  the  household,  is  best  fitted  to 
govern.  Obligated  by  marriage  vows,  and  solemnly 
installed  in  the  headship  of  his  government,  he  goes 
forth  from  the  matrimonial  altar  as  Abraham  did 
from  his  kindred,  trusting  to  a  Divine  promise  that 
subjects  shall  be  given  him  over  whom  he  may  exer- 
cise his  kingly  power.  Nor  are  the  indications  of 
Divine  providence  less  clear  in  regard  to  the  relative 
position  of  the  governed.  They  are  under  the  abso- 
lute necessity  of  being  directed  by  a  mind  superior  to 
their  own ;  and  hence  their  circumstances  necessarily 
create  a  sense  of  dependence. 

The  government  thus  constituted,  though  it  secures 
the  highest  possible  degree  of  human  authority,  and 
is  perfectly  despotic  in  its  form,  is  yet  wonderfully 
protected  against  the  tyrannical  exercise  of  power,  and 
the  abuse  of  privileges.  To  protect  the  subjects, 
there  is  associated  with  this  absolute  control  of  the 
monarch  a  peculiar  and  bland  medium  of  governmental 
influence  ;  a  power  equally  absolute  over  the  governed, 
and  yet  more  gentle  in  its  action.  The  mother  soft- 
ens the  exercise  of  authority,  and  enhances  all  the 
motives  to  obedience  by  the  place  wdiich  she  holds  in 
the  confidence  and  affection  of  both  parties.  The 
mother,  more  than  the  father,  leads  the  children  to 
the  fountains  of  instruction,  and  is  in  closer  compan- 
ionship with  them  in  early  life.     She  is  to  the  house- 


A  father's  influence.  221 

hold  what  Joseph  was  to  the  realm  of  Pharaoh,  the 
direct  administrator  of  the  government,  the  dispenser 
of  its  chief  blessings,  and  the  conservator  of  its  in- 
terests during  the  earlier  and  most  important  crisis  of 
its  history.  The  occasional  immediate  exercise  of 
paternal  authority  augments  the  dignity  of  her  rule, 
while  she  sustains  the  father's  supremacy  by  her  own 
perpetual  sway,  in  connection  with  her  example  of  sub- 
mission to  the  same  authority.  "  Wives,  submit  your- 
selves to  your  own  husbands,"  says  an  inspired  apostle, 
adding  as  a  motive  for  so  doing,  '^  as  it  is  fit  in  the 
Lord."  Can  it  be  doubted  that  a  principal  ground  of 
that  fitness  is  found  in  these  two  considerations,  viz. : 
first,  such  a  submission  renders  the  highest  govern- 
mental authority  one;  and,  therefore,  absolutely  in- 
capable of  divided  counsels ;  and,  secondly,  the 
government  is  thus  sustained  by  the  peculiar  and 
mighty  influence  of  an  example  of  submission  to  its 
authority  in  a  high  place. 

A  still  stronger  security  against  the  abuse  of  power 
is  laid  in  the  affections  of  the  ruler.  Although 
clothed  with  an  authority  which,  if  perverted,  might 
render  him  the  most  merciless  of  all  tyrants,  yet, 
such  is  the  influence  of  parental  affection,  that  chil- 
dren are  quite  as  liable  to  be  injured  by  an  over-fond 
indulgence,  as  by  an  undue  severity. 

The  abuse  of  privileges  is  equally  guarded  against 
in  the  relative  position  of  the  governed.  The  feeble- 
ness and  dependence  of  the  subjects,  not  less  than  the 
power  of  the  ruler  secure  a  non-revolutionary  state. 

19* 


222  SERMON  xir- 

During  a  period  of  nearly  six  thousand  years,  embrac- 
ing the  history  of  millions  of  these  little  dynasties,  not 
a  solitary  case  has  arisen,  in  which  internal  peace  has 
been  marred  by  the  tumults  and  strifes  of  a  popular 
election.  God  has  appointed  and  defined  the  govern- 
ing power  in  a  manner  so  marked,  that  none  are  able 
to  call  it  in  question,  much  less  to  meditate  its  over- 
throw. Nor  has  an  instance  occurred  in  which  the 
weakest  and  worst  has  by  low  cunning  and  sly  dema- 
gogical arts  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  govern- 
ment in  its  incipiency,  and  henceforth  controlled  it 
and  moulded  its  character.  The  unity  of  the  govern- 
ing power,  and  its  strength,  surpassing  as  it  does  the 
combined  power  of  all  the  subjects,  discourage,  at 
once,  every  idea  of  revolt.  Moreover,  if  tempted  to 
such  an  act,  obligations  of  gratitude  and  love  towards 
the  powers  that  be,  forbid  it.  Instances  of  filial  ingra- 
titude when  approaching  the  period  of  manhood,  and 
just  merging  from  domestic  to  civil  government,  are  not 
inconsistent  with  the  foregoing  statements.  They  are 
only  mournful  proofs  that  the  powers  of  the  govern- 
ment were  not  properly  wielded  when  they  had  the 
advantage  of  their  own  early  vigor,  and  of  the  infan- 
tile feebleness  of  the  governed. 

The  family  is  the  most  perfect  government  on 
earth.  It  is  the  nursery  in  which  the  immortal  being 
receives  its  first  impressions  of  obligations  and  author- 
ity, of  law  and  its  sanctions.  It  is  the  arena  where  it 
is  first  trained  before  it  is  allowed  to  go  forth  under 
ecclesiastical  and  civil  dominion ;  where  God  leaves  the 


A  father's  influence.  223 

human  mind  to  a  severer  probation,  to  wrestle  with 
peculiar  temptations  and  to  enjoy  greater  freedom  by 
being  subjected  to  greater  hazards.  Family  govern- 
ment, far  more  than  any  other,  is  analogous  to  the 
government  of  God.  Like  his,  it  has  one  monarch, 
one  lawgiver,  and  one  judge,  and  all  united  in  the 
same  person.  Like  his,  it  has  one  mediatorial  influ- 
ence, at  the  same  time  wielding  the  authority  of  the  gov- 
ernment, and  yet  feeling  the  tenderest  sympathy  by 
a  peculiarly  close  union  with  the  subjects.  Like  his, 
the  principal  element  of  its  power  is  love.  Indeed, 
family  government  is  the  government  of  God  epitom- 
ized. It  is  the  government  of  God  adapted  to  child- 
hood, by  its  objects  addressing  themselves  to  the 
senses,  and  by  the  nearness  and  visibility  of  its  influ- 
ences. The  principles  to  which  it  is  intended  to  give 
birth  in  the  bosoms  of  the  subjects  are  eternal.  The 
habits  which  it  engenders  are  immortal  as  the  nature 
that  imbibes  them.  What  limit,  then,  can  be  set  to 
the  power  for  good  which  is  intrusted  to  the  hands  of 
a  father  ? 

Yet  we  may  be  more  deeply  impressed  with  the 
extent  of  this  power  by  contemplating  the  identity  of 
the  interests  of  a  household.  Like  the  members  of 
the  human  body,  the  members  of  a  family  are  closely 
united.  Their  characters,  their  interests,  their  sym- 
pathies, are  so  interlinked  that  one  cannot  sufi'er  with- 
out the  others  sufi'ering  with  it.  If  the  father  himself 
exert  his  high  authority  to  conduct  his  elder  children 
along  with  himself  in  a  right  direction,  a  current  will 


224  SERMON  XII. 

be  created  and  a  channel  worn,  along  which  all  the 
household  will  be  drawn  towards  the  same  quiet  desira- 
ble haven.  Thus  paternal  power  wisely  exerted,  will 
be  continually  augmented  by  its  exercise,  till  it  yields 
up  its  individual  subjects  to  become  respectively  the 
heads  of  similar  governments,  which  in  their  turn 
shall  multiply  the  numbers  of  useful  and  happy  fami- 
lies. 

Distinct  from  the  influence  of  supreme  authority, 
the  father  possesses  another  power  of  inestimable 
value ;  the  power  to  instruct  his  offspring.  The  in- 
fluence of  authority  and  the  influence  of  instruction 
are  clearly  distinguishable ;  yet  each  implies  some 
degree  of  the  other.  "  Authority  is  that  right  to 
command  which  imposes  an  obligation  to  obey." 
Some  instruction,  with  reference  to  law  and  its 
sanctions,  and  the  nature  of  the  governing  power,  is 
indispensable  to  a  proper  susceptibility  of  being  in- 
fluenced by  authority ;  and  yet  the  sway  of  authority 
differs  from  the  direct  influence  of  instruction.  Au- 
thority may  compel  the  mind  to  pause  and  receive 
moral  enlightenment,  and  authority  is  that,  in  direct 
view  of  which  the  mind  always  acts,  when  it  goes 
forth  in  the  way  of  obedience.  But  instruction  is  the 
liberalizing  power  that  renders  the  reverence  for  au- 
thority more  profound,  and  suggests  a  thousand  inci- 
dental motives  for  the  performance  of  noble  deeds, 
and  the  cultivation  of  excellent  and  lofty  principles. 
Indeed,  character  cannot  be  well  formed,  and  adorned 
with  its  deeper  and  richer  shades,  but  by  the  light  of 


A  father's  influence.  225 

various  and  extended  instruction.  Cliildhood,  it  is 
true,  may  be  restrained  by  authority  in  its  strongest 
and  simplest  exercise,  with  the  least  possible  instruc- 
tion ;  and  a  degree  of  control  may  be  maintained 
through  life  by  the  same  influence.  This  is  done  by 
the  papal  priesthood.  But  it  is  done  by  a  protraction 
of  mental  childhood  all  through  life  to  old  age.  No- 
thing can  secure  the  living  green,  the  verdant  thrifty 
growth  of  good  character,  but  the  clear  sunshine  of 
truth — the  power  of  moral  teaching. 

The  father  holds  in  his  hands  the  highest  con- 
ceivable advantages  for  achieving  this  end.  He  has 
an  authority  which  is  supreme,  and  by  which  he  may 
exert  the  highest  influence,  in  its  kind,  that  the  mind 
of  childhood  can  receive.  He  has  the  best  possible 
means  of  instruction  at  his  disposal,  and  has  access  to 
the  mind  in  the  most  favored  period.  Whoever  else 
may  be  denied  the  access,  a  father  cannot  be  pre- 
vented from  approaching  the  mind  of  his  child. 
Clothed  with  supreme  authority,  armed  with  "  the 
rod  and  reproof,"  and  yet  breathing  the  spirit  of 
parental  afiection,  he  brings  with  him  all  the  appli- 
ances which  may  be  found  between  the  extremes  of  a 
stern  severity  and  the  most  loving  tenderness. 

The  means  of  instruction  are  as  good  as  God  can 
give,  or  he  employ.  He  holds  in  his  hands  the  sacred 
Scriptures ;  their  principles  are  simple  and  far-reach- 
ing, and  easily  communicated.  Their  history  is  enter- 
taining, and  blended  with  the  sweetest  fountains  of 
secular  learning.     Their  poetry  possesses  all  the  ad- 


226  SERMON  XII. 

vantages  of  a  splendid  imagery,  and  an  ornate  style 
and  simple  truth.  Their  doctrines  are  heavenly  and 
sublime.  Scenes  of  the  most  pathetic  interest  glow 
upon  their  pages,  while  they  exhibit  at  once  the  gen- 
tleness and  benignity  of  infinite  love,  and  the  awful- 
ness  of  God's  authority.  What  an  instrument  of 
moral  power  is  here  placed  at  the  disposal  of  a  father, 
and  given  to  him  too  for  the  express  purpose  of  incul- 
cating its  sacred  lessons  upon  the  minds  of  his  chil- 
dren !  It  is  illuminating  as  the  sun,  winning  as  the 
smile  of  God ;  subduing  as  the  death-groans  and  tear- 
ful importunity  of  Jesus  ;  and  more  terrific  in  its 
restraints  than  were  the  thunders  and  lightnings  and 
trumpet  voices  of  Sinai.  This  is  the  very  instrument 
which  God  employs  in  subduing  and  ruling,  and  sanc- 
tifying and  elevating  human  minds,  after  they  have 
been  thrown  into  stubborn  rebellion  and  degraded  by 
sin.  The  Holy  Spirit  uses  no  other  truths  than  those 
found  in  the  sacred  volume,  in  the  conversion  and 
sanctification  of  men.  By  these  ''  He  raiseth  up  the 
poor  from  the  dust,  and  lifteth  up  the  beggar  from  the 
dunghill,  to  set  them  among  princes,  and  to  make 
them  inherit  the  throne  of  glory."  As  a  means  of 
influence,  therefore,  instruction,  the  very  best  possible 
in  kind,  and  that  in  an  inexhaustible  quantity,  is 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  a  f^ither.  He  has  this  means 
of  instruction,  also,  under  the  most  favorable  circum- 
stances for  rendering  it  eff'ectual.  He  has  the  entire 
preoccupancy  of  the  mind  of  the  child.  When  he 
first  approaches  it,  there  is  not  one  position  defined 


A  father's  influence.  227 

and  fortified,  in  that  mind,  to  conflict  with  the  prin- 
ciples which  he  would  introduce.  Not  a  cavil  is 
uttered  against  the  truth.  There  is  no  ability  in  the 
infant  mind  for  such  a  work.  God  has  placed  it  in 
the  father's  hand  empty,  and  bidden  him  to  furnish 
it.  It  is  not  so  much  as  required  to  be  first  "  swept 
and  garnished,"  for  it  is  new.  Its  inner  chambers 
are  walled  all  about  with  mirrors  of  reflection.  Its 
active  powers  are  'running  out  on  nature's  sympathies 
as  on  a  railway,  to  bring  in  whatever  is  new  and 
strange  in  this  world  of  wonders.  The  parent  must 
seize  this  golden  opportunity,  and  stand  by  and  load 
down  the  trains  with  gospel  truth,  and  direct  the  now 
nimble  and  docile  faculties  in  assorting  and  packing 
them.  Truth  will  now  be  received  with  gladness. 
For  though  the  mind  is  entirely  depraved,  like  the 
stock  whence  it  is  derived,  yet  it  feels  no  active  oppo- 
sition to  the  truths  of  the  gospel  till  it  is  so  far  deve- 
loped as  to  perceive  their  moral  bearing. 

This  thought  is  deemed  of  the  greater  consequence, 
because  that  philosophy  which  would  be  wiser  than  the 
teachings  of  the  simplest  facts  in  nature,  in  their  full 
agreement  with  revelation,  has  maintained  that  a  de- 
praved mind  rejects  religious  truth  instinctively,  and 
with  the  same  spontaneousness  as  we  reject  food  for 
which  we  have  a  native  disrelish,  or  a  nauseous  me- 
dicine. This  is  certainly  a  mistake.  It  is  true  that 
^'men  love  darkness  rather  than  light,"  but  it  is  for  a 
reason.  It  is  ''because  their  deeds  are  evil."  That 
is,  they  hate  the  light  of  truth,  because  they  see  that 


228  SERMON  XTI. 

it  exposes  their  wickedness,  and  will  prove  to  tliera  an 
unwelcome  restraint.  But,  wlienever  truth  is  taught 
in  such  a  Avaj,  or  is  inculcated  upon  a  mind  in  such  a 
state,  that  the  reproving  influence  is  not  for  the  pre- 
sent seen,  it  meets  with  no  repugnance  in  the  most 
sinful  mind.  Thus  Nathan  went  to  David  with  a  par- 
able, and  gained  a  ready  assent  to  certain  principles 
before  he  disclosed  their  application  to  his  delinquent 
sovereign.  He  then  unfolded  theii*  bearings  b j  fixing 
upon  the  monarch  his  reproving  look,  and  exclaiming, 
with  emphasis,  "  Thou  art  the  man."  While  the  truth 
was  not  seen  as  bearing  upon  his  own  selfishness  and 
guilt,  it  was  not  unwelcome.  And  thus  it  is  univer- 
sally. There  are  other  things  in  the  mind  of  man,  by 
nature,  besides  depravity.  As  Milton  has  finely  said  : 
^'The  wisdom  of  God  created  understanding  fit  and 
proportionable  to  truth,  the  object  and  end  of  it,  as 
the  eye  to  the  thing  visible."  Thus,  in  the  early 
religious  instruction  of  children,  the  great  and  glorious 
truths  of  the  gospel  may  be  introduced  while  the  mind 
is  in  such  a  state,  from  the  limited  development  of  its 
powers,  that  it  feels  no  more  objection  to  truths  that 
will  one  day  pierce  it  as  a  two-edged  sword,  than 
David  felt  to  the  principle  which  was  so  beautifully 
wrapped  up  in  the  parable  of  the  prophet,  while  the 
applicableness  of  that  trutli  to  himself  was  undiscov- 
ered. 

The  father  may  place  in  the  mind  of  his  child  one 
of  the  most  important  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  and  not 
an  objection  shall  be  raised  against  its  introduction. 


A  father's  influence.  229 

Then  he  may  introduce  another  and  another.     Each 
one  may  be  regarded  as  an  object  of  intrinsic  beauty. 
Every  grand  doctrine  of   Christianity  may  thus   be 
brought  into  the  mind,  and,  thus  moved  about  on  those 
polished  hinges  of  instruction,  the  answers  of  the  ca- 
techism, they  may  be  matched  together  as  a  complete 
and  beautiful    and  well-proportioned   temple.     Does 
the  mind  of  childhood  object  to  this  edification?     No ; 
it  rather  claps  its  hands  for  joy  when  "the  head- 
stone" is  brought  forth  with  shoutings,  crying,  "  Grace, 
grace  unto  it."     Suppose,  now,  that  as  the  mind  ap- 
proaches maturity,  its  terrific  proclivity  to  a  course  of 
open  rebellion  against  God  appears  in  the  strength  of 
its  manhood  to  contend  against  the  restraints  of  reli- 
gion.    There  stands  the  soul  a  temple  of  gospel  truth. 
The  Saviour  knocks  at  the  door,  and  with  authority 
demands  an  entrance.     The  Holy  Spirit  claims  it  as 
his  proper  dwelling-place.     The  youth,  recreant  to  his 
own    and  his    father's  God,  may  now  war  with  the 
gospel,  but  it  is  too  late  to  deliver  himself  from  its 
influence.     He  may  hate  it,  but  he  knows  it  is  true. 
His  very  opposition  confirms  his  conviction.     He  may 
now  run  from  the  sanctuary,  but  he  carries  its  holy 
instructions  in  his  bosom.     He  may  spurn  ministers 
of  the  gospel  for  a  time,  but  there  is  a  preacher  within 
whom  he  cannot  despise.     He  may  turn  away  his  ear 
from  those  w^ho  warn  him,  and  remind  him  of  his  fa- 
ther's faithfulness,  but  he  cannot  escape  the  whisper- 
ings of  a  still,  small  voice  in  his  own  heart,  saying,  in 
the  language  of  those  solemn  declarations  of  holy  writ 
20 


230  SERMON  xir. 

early  embalmed  in  his  memory :  "  Prepare  to  meet 
thy  God;"  "He  that,  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth 
his  neck,  shall  suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  without 
remedy." 

If,  however,  a  judicious  exercise  of  authority  under 
circumstances  so  favorable  to  its  sway,  and  the  most 
faithful  instruction  at  the  favored  period  of  childhood 
be  by  themselves  insufficient,  as  they  certainly  are,  to 
secure  the  happiest  results,  there  is  one  grand  aug- 
mentation of  paternal  power  which  crowns  all  other 
endeavors  with  success.  I  mean,  the  impetration  of 
the  covenant  mercies  of  God.  In  strict  truth,  it  is 
God's  power  and  not  his  ow^n.  Yet  it  is  his.  Jacob 
had  power  with  God;  and  the  Christian  parent,  when 
pleading  with  his  Maker  in  behalf  of  his  children,  whom 
he  has  governed  and  instructed  for  the  very  purpose 
of  qualifying  them  to  serve  the  Lord,  "moves  the 
hand  that  moves  the  world."  "  The  promise  is  to  you 
and  your  children."  God  is  ready  to  give  his  Holy 
Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him.  The  father  that  has 
consecrated  his  infant  child  at  the  baptismal  font,  and 
exercised  aright  his  authority  and  his  power  of  in- 
structing, may  be  well  assured  that  God  will  not 
disregard  his  prayer  for  Divine  interposition.  His  cove- 
nant-keeping heavenly  Father  regards  his  faithful  serv- 
ant and  his  offspring  as  being  so  closely  united,  that 
he  cannot  well  allow  them  to  be  separated.  The  same 
spirit  of  supplication  that  secures  persevering  grace 
for  himself,  secures  also  converting  grace  for  his  child ; 
and  he  that  has  properly  embraced  God's  covenant 
would  as  soon  give  up  the  former  as  the  latter. 


A  FATHER'fci INFLUENCE.  231 

Taking  into  the  account,  then,  all  the  various  faci- 
lities committed  to  paternal  hands,  may  not  a  Christ- 
ian father  be  justified  in  speaking  in  the  confident 
tone  of  Joshua,  and  saying,  ''  As  for  me  and  my  house 
we  will  serve  the  Lord?" 

From  these  views,  it  is  obvious  that  it  can  never  be 
a  light  matter  to  trifle  with  parental  authority  and 
influence^  The  very  first  lesson  in  morals  and  religion 
is  to  learn  submission  to  authority-  In  the  family, 
God  commences  with  our  nature  in  its  infancy  to  in- 
culcate that  lesson.  So  sacred  does  he  regard  it,  that 
he  has  nowhere  prescribed  any  course  to  be  taken  by 
the  ckiM  to  secure  its  rights  in  case  of  the  most  de- 
spotic enielty  on  the  part  of  the  parent.  It  cannot 
be  denied  that  mental  derangement,  or  sallies  of  uii- 
governed  anger,  might  be  properly  resisted  by  a  child 
when  resistaffiee  is  the  only  means  left  for  the  protec- 
tion of  life.  But  the  fact  tlxat  no  instruetion  is  given 
in  the  Scriptures  defining  the  circumstances  in  which 
such  re^sistance  may  be  justified,  is  a  strong  intimation 
that  it  is  not  t@  be  thought  ©f  till  the  most  pressing 
exigency  compels  it.  Indeed,  the  sentiments  of  filial 
piety  are  of  such  a  mature  that  we  can  scarcely  con- 
ceive of  any  extreme  of  yielding  which  will  not 
awaken  o^r  admiration.  A  case  in  point  is  related 
of  a  mother  and  her  daughter,  in  which  the  sad  evils 
of  uncontrolled  passion  and  the  sweetness  of  filial 
piety  are  alike  exemplified.  The  mother,  from  early 
habit,  indulged  herself  in  cruel  outbreaks  of  rage  and 
violence  against  her  child-    The  spirit  of  the  little  girl 


232  SERMON  XII. 

possessed  an  uncommon  share  of  native  gentleness, 
and  had  also  been  greatly  softened  by  the  heavenly 
influences  of  religion.  After  she  had  attained  her 
fourteenth  year,  she  was  one  day  assaulted  by  her 
mother  with  brutal  violence  for  some  slight  oversight 
of  which  she  had  been  guilty.  After  beating  her  till 
w^ary  and  exhausted  with  the  exercise,  she  observed 
that  the  child  wept  and  sobbed  aloud.  It  was  unusual, 
and  the  mother  inquired  the  reason  of  it.  With 
the  utmost  simplicity,  the  affectionate  and  aggrieved 
child  informed  her  that  the  excess  of  her  sorrow  arose 
from  observing  with  how  much  less  vigor  of  arm  she 
corrected  her  than  formerly.  When  such  a  veneration 
and  affection  for  a  parent  leads  a  child  to  not  even 
observe  or  seem  to  know  the  injustice  under  which  it 
suffers,  we  cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the  love- 
liness of  filial  submission,  and  to  feel  that  it  can 
scarcely  be  carried  to  an  extreme. 

Nor  does  this  reasoning  apply  to  parental  govern- 
ment merely.  It  has  an  analogous  application  to  the 
exercise  of  authority  generally.  There  are  no  instruc- 
tions given  in  the  word  of  God  respecting  the  circum- 
stances in  which  it  may  be  resisted,  and  nothing  is 
said  of  the  mode  in  which  such  resistance  may  be 
made ;  while  the  subjection  of  children  to  parents, 
wives  to  husbands,  church  members  to  them  that  have 
the  rule  over  them,  and  citizens  to  magistrates,  is 
often  and  earnestly  inculcated.  The  principle  as- 
sumed by  our  Saviour  and  his  apostles  seems  to  be 
this.     There  are  two  evils  which  inhere  more  or  less, 


A  father's  influence.  233 

in  all  modes  of  government,  among  sinful  beings — the 
insubordination  of  the  governed,  and  the  oppression 
of  the  governors.  Of  these  two  evils  insubordination 
is  immeasurably  the  greatest.  Where  there  is  no 
subordination,  there  is  no  place  for  God  himself  to  set 
up  his  claims.  There  are  no  sure  resisting  tendencies 
in  a  state  of  anarchy  to  the  evils  of  that  state.  Its 
very  action  is  to  perpetuate  the  principle  that  ''  might 
makes  right,"  and  to  bring  back  such  a  reign  of  "  chaos 
and  old  night"  that  no  security  of  life  or  property 
shall  exist,,  but  every  man  shall  be  subjected  to  suifer 
from  the  hand  of  his  brother.  But  in  a  wide-spread 
despotism,  however  oppressive,  there  must  be  some  of 
the  blessings  of  order ;  and  that  quietness  and  con- 
tinuity of  the  same  things  which  prevail  are  favorable 
to  a  silent  spread  and  growth  of  principles  that  will 
ultimately  assert  the  rights  of  the  oppressed.  Hence 
our  Saviour  and  his  apostles  everywhere  inculcate 
obedience  to  rulers  irrespective  of  their  character, 
enjoining  subordination  to  their  authority  and  endea- 
voring to  change  the  tone  of  the  public  sentiment,  so 
as  ultimately  to  secure  the  lenient  exercise  of  the  gov- 
erning power.  Hence,  too,  an  apostle  gave  it  out  as 
one  of  the  strongest  marks  of  the  depravity  of  a  cer- 
tain class,  that  they  "  despised  dominions  and  spake 
evil  of  dignities."  Nor  were  just  and  praiseworthy 
rulers  alone  referred  to.  The  dominions  of  the  Cae- 
sars and  the  dignities  of  the  Herods  were  included, 
and  men  were  rebuked  for  trifling  with  authority,  even 

20* 


234:  SERMON  xri. 

"when  it  was  exercised  with  most  unreasonable  sever- 

The  spirit  of  Christianity  is  very  peculiar  in  this 
respect.  Infidelity  has  almost  always  made  it  a  main 
stroke  in  its  policy,  to  appear  to  be  foremost  in  the 
defence  of  human  rights  against  the  undue  exercise  of 
governmental  power.  On  the  same  field  Christianity 
has  aimed  to  cultivate  respect  for  authority,  and  to 
promote  the  growth  of  knoAvledge  and  holiness  as  the 
remedy  for  its  abuses.  It  is  sufiiciently  obvious  which 
has  really  achieved  the  most  towards  securing  the 
rights  of  the  people.  Our  puritan  ancestors,  among 
whom  one  might  not  address  a  disrespectful  word  to 
the  lowest  parish  magistrate,  nor  approach  a  school- 
master, but  as  a  superior  being,  laid  the  foundations 
of  liberty  broad  and  deep,  while  the  French  philoso- 
phers, with  all  their  boasted  attachments  to  human 
rights,  and  their  real  hatred  of  arbitrary  power,  when 
not  exercised  by  themselves,  have  not  as  yet  secured 
the  state  against  the  most  fearful  tendencies  to  revo- 
lution. Assassins  even  now  stalk  among  the  tombs  of 
the  philosophers  of  the  French  revolution,  threatening 
the  overthrow  of  existing  authority  without  the  least 
prospect  of  anything  better  in  its  place.  And  who 
has  done  most  to  elevate  her  sex,  Mary  Woolstencraft, 
prating  about  woman's  rights,  and  urging  them  to 
wrestle  with  men  for  equality  on  the  arena  of  political 
strife  ;  or  Hannah  More,  commending  the  domestic 
virtues,  and  assuring  her  sex  that  their  highest  glory 


A  father's  influence.  235 

is  attained  in  their  loved  and  honoured  subordination 
to  their  husbands? 

.  With  such  views  of  the  power  of  a  father  to  bless 
his  family,  before  the  mind,  how  mighty  do  the  motives 
for  parental  faithfulness  become  !  It  must  exert  a 
vast  influence  upon  a  parent  to  reflect  how  perfectly 
God  has  subjected  the  minds  of  his  children  to  his 
forming  hand.  His  authority  is  absolute.  In  this 
respect  he  cannot  possibly  have  any  higher  advantage. 
As  a  ruler  no  one  questions  his  right  to  entire  obedi- 
ence. There  is  no  thought  of  displacing  him  by  elec- 
tion. There  are  no  tendencies  to  revolution  in  his 
little  empire.  His  subjects  are  so  manifestly  inferior 
and  dependent  that  there  is  no  necessity  for  tumults 
within,  nor  is  there  any  considerable  danger  of  inter- 
ferences from  without.  He  has  the  power  of  com- 
pletely controlling  their  instruction.  Furnished  with 
the  richest  stores  of  knowledge  in  the  Divine  w^ord,  he 
employs  the  same  truths  in  the  same  Divine  connec- 
tions which  God  employs  in  the  conversion  and  sanc- 
tificatlon  of  men.  He  makes  the  authority  of  God 
himself  subserve  his  purpose.  He  has  the  preoccu- 
pancy  of  the  mind  and  the  promised  aid  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  It  is,  perhaps,  impossible  for  us  to  appreciate 
the  advantage  of  an  access  to  the  mind  in  precedence 
of  all  others,  and  the  value  of  the  opportunity  of  intro- 
ducing the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  before  depravity 
has  had  sufficient  time,  and  acquired  skill  enough,  to 
bar  up  the  avenues  of  truth.  It  is  obvious  that  Christ- 
ianity, though  in  every  other  respect  the  same,  would 


236  SERMON  XII. 

have  been  placed  under  peculiar  disadvantages,  if  the 
human  family  had  been  all  created,  as  we  suppose 
angels  were,  in  the  maturity  of  their  powers.  We 
know  not  that  the  gospel  could  be  propagated  at  all 
in  a  world  full  of  mature  beings  involved  in  a  common 
rebellion.  The  power  of  God,  it  is  true,  is  not  to  be 
limited,  but  we  do  know  at  least  that  his  power  and 
wisdom  are  both  magnified  by  spreading  the  triumphs 
of  his  religion  through  the  influence  of  instruction 
introduced  in  the  happy,  favored  period  of  childhood. 
It  is  a  high  motive  also  to  parental  faithfulness  to 
know  that  it  exerts  a  wide  influence  in  sustaininor  the 

o 

blessings  of  civil  government,  and  in  the  advancement 
of  spiritual  religion.  It  is  highly  probable  that  there 
would  be  no  civil  government  on  earth,  if  it  were  not 
for  family  government,  and  it  never  will  be  known,  till 
the  light  of  eternity  reveals  it,  how  much  a  few  well- 
governed  and  well-instructed  families  do  to  prevent 
states  and  empires  from  rushing  into  the  horrors  of 
anarchy.  Then  the  example  of  parental  faithfulness, 
with  the  blessings  that  are  seen  to  attend  it,  power- 
fully draws  men  to  Christ.  Kor  does  it  merely  at- 
tract men  as  individuals  to  a  spiritual  worship  of  God. 
It  leads  families  to  their  Saviour.  Many  a  parent 
has  been  won  to  Christ,  by  seeing  how  a  Christian 
family  is  blest  through  the  influence  of  family  religion. 
And  when  such  a  one  is  turned  to  God,  it  is  like  the 
conversion  of  a  kino^  amons^  idolatrous  tribes.  The 
whole  government  becomes  a  sanctified  one,  and  entire 
households  are  trained  up  for  the  service  of  the  Lord. 


A  father's  influence.  237 

Besides,  no  mortal  can  estimate  the  influenee  of  pater- 
nal faithfulness  upon  future  generations.  To  a  reflect- 
ing mind,  that  is  a  mighty  scheme  of  influence  which 
is  indicated  by  the  words  of  the  prophet :  "  Tell  ye 
your  children  of  it,  and  let  them  tell  their  children, 
and  their  children  another  generation."  That  is  to 
say,  let  holy  sentiments,  sound  instruction,  stern  princi- 
ples of  right,  pass  from  lip  to  lip,  from  an  individual 
to  a  family  ;  from  each  one  of  its  members  to  their 
families;  from  all  their  members  to  a  wider  circle, 
and  so  on,  increasing  in  a  rapidly  augmented  ratio, 
till  a  multitude  like  a  nation,  shall  have  their  minds 
and  hearts  cast  in  the  mould  of  a  godly  ancestor. 

What  a  weight  of  responsibleness  rests  upon  a 
Christian  father  I  Household  piety  lies  at  the  found- 
ation of  all  rio-ht  religious  culture,  and  of  the  success 
of  the  church  of  .God.  There  the  influence  of  the 
gospel  appears  in  its  might,  exerting  itself  under  the 
most  advantageous  circumstances  possible.  There  is 
authority  absolute,  yet  tempered  with  parental 
affection,  softened  by  maternal  kindness,  and  enforced 
by  a  mother's  echo  of  paternal  authority,  and  by  the 
example  of  a  dignified  Sarah-like  submission.  There 
is  instruction,  rich,  various,  and  solid,  introduced  into 
the  mind  in  the  most  favored  period.  Let  parents 
then  address  themselves  to  their  chief  work  on  earth, 
the  training  of  their  children  for  the  service  of  God. 
Let  them  wait  upon  the  Lord  for  the  aids  of  his  grace. 
Let  them  remember  that  the  time  is  short,  that  their 
influence  must  be  exerted  now  ;  that  they  shall  soon 


238  SERMON  XII. 

meet  tlicir  dear  ones  at  tlie.bar  of  God;  that  they 
shall  see  them  there  polluted  with  sin,  scathed  with 
thunder  and  crushed  to  hell,  or  they  shall  meet  them 
clothed  in  robes  of  unsullied  purity,  with  crowns  of 
gold  on  their  heads,  and  entering  with  songs  and 
transports  into  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 


SERMON   XIII. 

IMPORTANCE  OF  GENTLE  VIRTUES. 

Whose  adorning,  let  it  not  be  that  outward  adorning  op 
plaiting  the  hair,  and  of  wearing  of  gold,  or  of  putting  on 

OF  APPAREL  ;  But  let  it  be  THE  HIDDEN  MAN  OF  THE  HEART,  IN 
THAT  WHICH  IS  NOT  CORRUPTIBLE,  EVEN  THE  ORNAMENT  OF  A  MEEK 
AND  QUIET  SPIRIT,  WHICH  IS  IN  THE  SIGHT  OF  GOD  OF  GREAT  PRICE. 
—1  Pet.  III.   3,  4. 

The  apostle  is  here  addressing  himself  to  Christian 
wives  in  regard  to  the  best  method  of  exerting  a  good 
spiritual  influence  upon  their  unconverted  husbands. 
He  first  recommends  a  dutiful  subjection,  so  that  their 
husbands,  if  not  subdued  bj  the  word  (that  is,  if  not 
converted  bj  means  of  the  preaching  of  the  gospel), 
may  be  won  by  the  conversation  of  the  wives.  While 
they  behold,  says  he,  your  chaste  conversation  coupled 
with  fear.  The  word,  translated  conversation,  has  a 
more  extensive  signification  than  we  give  to  the  Eng- 
lish term  at  the  present  day.  It  means  behavior ; 
so  that  the  idea  intended  to  be  conveyed  by  the  se- 
cond verse  is  this,  while  they  behold  your  pure  beha- 
vior coupled  with  a  reverent  obedience  to  their  own 
authority.  He  then  proceeds  to  magnify  the  beauty 
and  power  of  the  inward  spiritual  graces  of  the  Christ- 


240  SERMON  xrri. 

ian  when  compared  "with  the  most  captivating  out- 
ward ornaments. 

Doubtless  there  is  such  a  thing  as  extravagance  in 
personal  decoration ;  but  I  do  not  think  that  the 
apostle  intended  in  this  place  to  say  an^^thing  upon 
that  subject.  His  view  may  be  expressed  in  a  para- 
phrase like  this.  You  may  have  thought  that  you 
could  obtain  a  powerful  sway  over  the  minds  of  your 
unconverted  husbands  by  a  tasteful  attire  and  capti- 
vating ornaments ;  but  let  me  assure  you  that  there 
are  ornaments  which  far  surpass  the  plaiting  of  the 
hair,  and  the  wearing  of  gold  and  the  putting  on  of 
apparel,  however  beautiful  and  becoming.  It  is  the 
ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit ;  an  ornament  of 
such  high  charms  that  even  God  himself  esteems  it  of 
great  price.  Adorn  yourselves,  then,  with  the  gentle 
and  lovely  graces  of  piety,  esteem  nothing  else  of  any 
worth  in  the  comparison. 

By  this,  certainly,  the  apostle  would  not  restrict 
these  virtues  to  females.  But  as  Archbishop  Leigh- 
ton  on  this  passage  has  beautifully  said:  ''This  orna- 
ment is  withal  the  comeliness  of  every  Christian  in 
every  estate.  It  is  not  a  woman's  garment,  or  orna- 
ment improper  for  men.  There  is  somewhat,  as  I 
may  say,  of  a  particular  cut  or  fashion  of  it  for  wives 
towards  their  husbands  and  in  their  domestic  affairs ; 
but  men,  all  men  ought  to  wear  of  the  same  stuff,  yea, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  of  the  same  piece,  for  it  is  all  one 
and  the  same  spirit,  and  fits  the  stoutest  and  greatest 
commanders.     Moses  was  a  great  general,  and   yet 


IMPORTANCE  OF  GENTLE  VIRTUES.  241 

not  less  great  in  this  virtue,  the  meekest  man   on 
eartlu' 

Christianity  is  the  friend  of  everything  that  is 
good,  but  it  evidently  gives  most  consequence  to  those 
gentle,  and  quiet,  and  retiring  qualities  for  which  the 
world  has  little  regard.  Incidentally,  a  chaste  and 
refined  taste  is  promoted  by  the  gospel.  Public 
spirit,  patriotism,  a  wide-spread  philanthropy,  and 
a  high  regard  for  honor  are  virtues  which  spring  up 
and  flourish  most  luxuriantly  under  Christian  culture. 
But  meekness,  quietness  of  spirit,  patience,  penitence, 
humility,  and  indeed  the  whole  family  of  gentler  virtues 
are  the  peculiar  glory  of  our  religion.  That  the  apostle 
should  have  selected  from  all  the  good  qualities  by 
which  religion  is  commended,  the  ornament  of  a  meek 
and  quiet  spirit;  and  that  he  should  have  spoken  of 
these  as  jewels  to  adorn  the  soul,  and  that  he  should 
have  represented  them  as  high-priced  in  the  estima- 
tion of  God  ;  these  facts  will  more  than  justify  me  in 
deducing  from  the  text  the  following 

PROPOSITION. 

The  GENTLE  AND  UNOBTRUSIVE  VIRTUES  OF  CHRIST- 
IANITY ARE  OF  PARAMOUNT  IMPORTANCE. 

It  will  scarcely  be  doubted  by  any  attentive  reader 
of  the  New  Testament  that  our  Saviour  and  his  apos- 
tles gave  great  prominence  to  these  virtues.  They 
certainly  did  not  discourage  patriotism,  and  boldness, 
and  a  manly  sense  of  honor.  They  did  not  advise 
21 


242  SERMON  XIII. 

magistrates  to  allow  their  authority  to  fall  into  con- 
tempt by  too  much  indulgence  of  evil-doers.  On  the 
contrary,  they  approved  of  their  maintaining  the  ma- 
jesty of  the  law  by  inflicting  capital  punishment. 
They  commended  magistrates  for  bearing  the  sword, 
tlie  instrument  by  which  death  was  inflicted,  not  in 
vain.  And  Paul  alleged  that  he  was  ready  to  sustain 
the  law  against  capital  off'ences  by  submitting  himself 
to  death  if  he  had  done  anything  deserving  such  a 
punishment. 

What  a  remarkable  cluster  of  these  gentler  quali- 
ties has  our  blessed  Saviour  brought  together  in  that 
beautiful  strain  of  beatitudes  in  the  commencement  of 
his  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  His  blessing  rests  on  the 
poor  in  spirit,  the  penitent  mourner  for  sin,  the  meek, 
the  merciful,  the  pure,  the  peace-makers,  and  those 
who  sufi*er  bitter  persecution  with  patience.  How 
earnestly  does  he  inculcate  the  duty  of  forgiving  in- 
juries and  loving  our  enemies.  When  Christ  is  held 
up  to  us  as  a  pattern  by  the  inspired  writers,  it  is 
with  reference  to  these  peculiar  qualities.  He  acted 
with  a  holy  and  vigorous  zeal  when  he  made  a  whip 
of  small  cords  and  drove  the  cattle  from  the  court  of 
the  temple,  and  purged  the  holy  inclosure  by  compel- 
ling the  trafiickers  and  money-changers  to  withdraw. 
But  in  this  point  of  his  example  our  imitation  is  not 
insisted  on.  When  he  rode  into  Jerusalem  as  a  king, 
and  awed  the  multitudes  of  his  enemies,  and  com- 
manded a  deserved  homao;e  from  the  hearts  of  thou- 
sands,  he  asserted  his  proper  dignity ;  but  no  care  is 


IMPORTANCE  OF  GENTLE  VIRTUES.  243 

taken  to  urge  upon  us  to  assert  at  suitable  times  our 
dignity.  But  his  meekness  and  lowliness  are  often 
placed  before  us  for  the  express  purpose  of  being 
copied.  He  exhibited  these  qualities  almost  exclu- 
sively. If  his  dignity  and  glory  gleamed  forth  at  the 
purgation  of  the  temple,  at  the  riding  in  kingly  state 
into  Jerusalem,  and  at  the  glorious  transfiguration 
upon  mount  Tabor,  yet  almost  the  whole  of  his  life 
was  an  exemplification  of  those  virtues  which  may  be 
exercised  and  evinced  in  the  life  of  a  poor  laborer  or 
the  humblest  domestic.  Indeed,  he  took  upon  him- 
self the  form  of  a  servant,  and  made  nearly  the  whole 
of  his  life  an  exemplification  of  the  gentle  and  unob- 
trusive virtues. 

The  discipline  to  which  divine  Providence  has  sub- 
jected the  church,  whenever  the  Lord  has  improved 
her  character,  evinces  the  same  thing.  Aflfliction  has 
been  employed  to  inure  the  soul  to  patience.  Per- 
secution has  been  permitted  to  cultivate  the  spirit  of 
meekness,  and  subordination  to  produce  quietness. 
The  fruits  of  the  divine  Spirit  are  also  characterized 
as  possessing  this  same  gentle,  quiet  character.  ''  The 
fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering, 
gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance." 

Let  me  suggest  some  reasons  why  Christianity 
gives  such  prominence  to  the  gentler  and  unobtrusive 
virtues.     And, 

I.  There  is  more  simplicity  and  purity  of  character 
secured  hy  the  exercise  of  the  gentler  virtues. 

In  the  manifestation  of  shining  qualities,  and  the 


244  SERMON  XIII. 

exercise  of  high  public  virtues,  the  best  men  find  in 
connection  with  their  love  of  what  is  right  a  strong 
mingling  of  self-interest.  Those  actions  which  glare 
before  the  public  as  great  and  splendid  achievements, 
bring  after  them  certain  secular  rewards  which  corrupt 
the  simplicity  of  the  actor,  or  at  least  strongly  tend 
to  such  a  result.  The  love  of  gain  stealthily  insinuates 
itself.  An  eye  to  one's  reputation  mars  the  purity  of 
his  motives.  Vanity  is  flattered  by  what  men  say  of 
such  actions.  But  one  is  less  tempted  to  this  mingling 
of  selfish  feelings,  with  patience  and  meekness,  and 
uniform  gentleness,  and  humility,  and  forbearance. 
Hence  the  truth  of  the  language  of  the  poet, 

"The  private  walks,  the  secret  acts  of  men, 
If  noble,  far  the  noblest  of  their  lives." 

The  retired  virtues  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit  are  less 
likely  to  be  corrupted  than  those  high  qualities  that 
come  more  abroad ;  as  the  fountain,  that  bubbles  up  from 
the  deep  recess  of  a  rock,  is  more  likely  to  send  a  pure 
current  over  its  pebbly  bed  in  that  retirement,  than 
the  river  is  to  continue  pure  when  it  has  cut  a  channel 
for  itself  in  the  earth  for  the  space  of  a  thousand  miles. 

II.  The  gentler  and  more  iinohtrusive  virtues  are  of 
more  general  utility. 

There  are,  comparatively,  few  persons  that  occupy 
positions  which  will  demand  anything  very  striking  or 
imposing  from  them.  But  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit  be- 
comes the  king  on  his  throne,  the  statesman  in  the 
senate  chamber,  the  scholar  in  his  closet,  and  the  ar- 


IMPORTANCE  OF  GENTLE  VIRTUES.  245 

tisan  in  his  slioj).  Yes,  and  it  equally  well  becomes 
the  prince  and  the  beggar. 

So  the  gentler  virtues  may  be  brought  into  profit- 
able exercise  on  all  occasions.  You  may  repent,  and 
meekly  forgive  injuries,  and  be  patient  every  day — 
nay,  almost  every  hour.  While  what  are  termed  high 
and  shining  qualities  are  conspicuous  only  on  the 
great  occasions  that  demand  them,  while  they  are 
put  on  like  the  uniform  of  the  military  on  days  of  re- 
view, and  in  the  time  of  battle,  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit 
may  be  worn  as  the  perpetual  ornament  of  the  soul. 
They  send  forth  a  pure  light,  and  exhibit  a  simple 
goodness,  which  benefits  every  beholder. 

III.  As  this  class  of  virtues  is  of  more  general  util- 
ity^ so  tliey  are  afar  more  poiv erf ul  means  of  useful- 
ness. 

Other  virtues  that  manifest  themselves  in  splendid 
achievements,  exhibit  a  greater  show  of  strength.  They 
move  with  armies,  and  sit  in  cabinets,  and  walk  in  the 
high  places  of  ofiice,  and  show  themselves  in  halls  of 
legislation.  They  are  associated  with  "the  mighty 
man  and  the  man  of  war,  the  judge  and  the  prophet, 
and  the  prudent  and  the  ancient,  the  captain  of  fifty 
and  the  honorable  man,  and  the  counsellor  and  the 
cunning  artificer,  and  the  eloquent  orator."  But  pa- 
tience under  injuries,  forgiveness,  and  a  meek  and 
quiet  spirit,  possesses  far  greater  power.  The  gentle- 
ness of  this  temper  causes  it  not  to  be  seen  by  the 
thoughtless  and  the  superficial.  But  its  unobtrusive- 
ness  prevents  men  from  guarding  themselves  against 

21* 


246  SERMON  XIII. 

its  influence,  and  gives  it  a  silent  power  wliicli  no 
human  mind  can  estimate.  The  apostle,  in  our  con- 
text, places  it  (in  respect  to  its  power)  above  the 
preaching  of  the  gospel.  He  represents  it  as  coming 
in  and  winning  an  unconverted  soul  after  the  preach- 
ing of  the  word  had  failed  to  accomplish  the  end — 
"that  if  any  obey  not  the  word,"  says  he,  "they  also 
may,  without  the  word,  be  won  by  the  conversation  of 
the  wives."  The  subsequent  verses  indicate  that  he 
means  by  conversation,  here,  the  manifestation  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit. 

Every  unconverted  sinner  guards  himself  vigilantly 
against  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  all  those  con- 
spicuous means  which  are  connected  with  the  reputa- 
tion and  other  temporal  rewards  of  the  actors.  But 
no  man  can  o-uard  himself  af!;ainst  the  influence  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit,  manifested  by  a  friend  or  a 
member  of  his  own  household — and  manifested  only 
because,  unobtrusive  as  it  is,  it  cannot  be  hid.  The 
quiet  shining  of  such  a  spirit  compares  with  the  more 
spirited  action  of  high  public  endeavor  as  the  influ- 
ence of  the  sun  compares  with  that  of  the  wind,  in  the 
fable,  when  they  vied  with  each  other  in  efforts  to  take 
the  cloak  from  a  pedestrian  traveller.  The  wind  made 
the  first  attempt.  By  a  sudden  gust  he  lifted  the 
loose  garment,  but  the  man  feeling  himself  in  danger 
of  suff'ering  loss,  caught  again  his  flying  mantle  and 
gathered  it  more  closely  about  him.  The  wind  blew 
more  fiercely.  The  traveller  only  gathered  more 
closely  the  folds  of  his  cloak.     The  wind  collected  all 


IMPORTANCE  OF  GENTLE  VIRTUES.  247 

its  force,  and  came  in  a  wliirling  tornado.  The  trav- 
eller buckled  his  cloak  tightly  about  his  person,  and 
rendered  it  easier  to  take  cloak  and  traveller  away 
together  than  to  separate  them.  No  effect  had  been 
produced  except  to  stimulate  the  man  to  the  most  de- 
termined and  successful  resistance.  The  sun  com- 
menced his  effort.  The  traveller  perceived  no  effort 
at  all.  He  saw  only  a  quiet  beauty  and  brightness  in 
the  heavens.  He  walked  on  with  elastic  step,  and  all 
unconscious  to  himself,  unbuckled  the  closest  band  of 
his  cloak.  Onward  he  passed,  the  sun's  beams  still 
baptizing  his  entire  person  with  its  noiseless  flood. 
Tlie  traveller  loosened  another  fold  of  his  mantle.  The 
sun  made  no  demonstration  of  increased  effort.  He 
only  continued  the  same  meek  and  quiet  shining.  The 
traveller  came  to  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock,  and 
paused,  and  deliberately  laid  off  his  cloak,  folded  it, 
and  sat  down  upon  it  to  rest.  He  knew  that  the  w^ind 
had  made  an  unsuccessful  endeavor  to  take  from  him 
his  garment — but  he  scarcely  knew  that  the  sun  had 
sought  for  it,  and  yet  he  had  cheerfully  given  it  to 
him,  and  was  almost  ready  to  impart  his  coat  also. 
Thus  is  it  with  the  influence  of  a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit.  It  is  gentle,  and  noiseless,  and  mighty.  It 
achieves  the  most  majestic  results  without  advertising 
those  upon  whom  it  acts  of  the  influence  by  which  their 
hearts  are  w^on  to  the  Saviour. 

IV.  The  superior  excellency  of  these  gentler  virtues 
is  also  seen  in  the  fact,  that  they  distinguish  the  truly 
jpious,  the  children  of  Qod^from  other  men. 


248  SERMON  xiir. 

The  fire  may  be  taken  from  other  altars  than  that 
of  Christianity,  to  kindle  the  flame  of  patriotism. 
Human  culture  of  some  of  the  nobler  qualities  of  our 
nature  can  produce  honorable  sentiments  and  many 
of  the  social  virtues.  But  nothing  less  than  the  grace 
of  God  can  subdue  the  soul  in  genuine  penitence,  and 
inspire  an  unresisting  meekness  under  injuries  and  a 
forgiveness  of  wrongs,  and  clothe  the  whole  man  with 
the  garment  of  humility.  A  meek  and  quiet  spirit  was 
never  manifested  by  the  legislators,  the  philosophers, 
or  the  people,  among  the  heathen.  It  never  existed 
among;  Mohammedans.  A  ferocious  and  reveno;eful 
temper  is  even  inculcated  by  their  religion.  Infidels 
never  pretend  to  be  influenced  by  such  a  temper ;  nor 
do  those  of  our  great  political  men,  who  claim  to  have 
rendered  the  most  important  service  to  their  country, 
but  who  are  confessedly  not  spiritual  Christians,  pre- 
tend to  possess  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit.  But  there 
have  been  individuals  in  every  age  of  the  world,  some 
in  high  stations,  and  many  more  in  the  humbler  walks 
of  life,  that  have  always  manifested  this  spirti.  Yet 
in  every  instance,  whether  it  were  Joseph  in  Egypt, 
or  Moses  in  the  wilderness,  or  Stephen,  kneeling  with 
bright  face  before  his  murderers,  or  the  publican, 
smitino;  on  his  breast,  or  the  obscurest  female  that  dis- 
tributes  tracts  in  the  city,  and  repeats  visits  of  kind- 
ness to  those  who  requite  them  with  sour  looks  and 
unkind  expressions,  in  every  instance  that  spirit  bears 
the  impress  of  God's  workmanship  and  grace. 

V.   The  gentler  and  more  unobtrusive  virtues  im- 


IMPORTANCE  OF  GENTLE  VIRTUES.  249 

part  the  greatest  consistency  and  the  most  enduring 
and  extensive  usefulness  to  that  class  of  good  actions 
tvhich  we  have  denominated  shining  qualities. 

Moses  was  a  wiser  legislator,  a  more  skilful  gene- 
ral, and  possessed  more  power  in  his  public  character, 
because  he  was  meek  and  patient  in  his  spirit.  Joseph 
and  Daniel  were  fitted  to  shine  in  courts,  and  to  ex- 
ert a  mighty  influence  by  their  public  virtues,  because 
they  possessed,  in  a  pre-eminent  degree,  a  meek  and 
quiet  spirit.  When  St.  Paul  was  running  a  splendid 
career  of  public  usefulness,  God  in  his  holy  providence 
so  ordered  events  that  he  should  be  continually  afflicted 
to  secure  his  continued  humility.  And  when  there 
was  danger  that  he  might  be  lifted  up  with  vanity  on 
account  of  his  great  public  distinction,  he  informs  us 
that  a  messenger  of  Satan  was  sent  to  buflfet  him. 
This  contributed  to  that  meekness  and  quietness  of 
spirit,  which  gave  new  and  wonderful  power  to  his 
public  action. 

VI.  Again,  Grod  has  promised  the  highest  rewards 
to  the  exercise  of  the  gentler  virtues. 

There  is  very  little  of  anything  like  direct  promises 
to  those  who  shall  deliver  their  country  from  oppres- 
sion, or  break  the  political  bondage  of  communities 
or  perform  any  other  great  public  work.  "  To  this 
man,"  says  God,  "will  I  look,  even  to  him  that  is  poor 
and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  that  trembleth  at  my 
word."  "  He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the 
mighty,  and  he  who  ruleth  his  spirit,  than  he  that 
taketh  a  city."     There  are  no  marked  promises  in  the 


260  SERMON  XIII. 

sacred  Scriptures,  to  one  who,  like  Lord  Bacon,  clianges 
the  philosophy  of  the  world.  But  God  will  beautify 
the  meek  with  salvation.  Blessed  are  the  meek. 
Forgive,  and  ye  shall  be  forgiven.  If  a  servant  only 
suffer  wrongfully  with  patience,  God  will  reward  it. 
From  these  views  we  propose  to  deduce  very  briefly 
several  lessons  of  instruction.     And, 

1.  Christianity  must  he  from  Crod. 

No  other  system  of  religion  has  ever  given  promi- 
nence to  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit.  No  other  system 
has  so  much  as  professed  to  do  so.  Even  under  the 
teachings  of  Christianity,  the  great  mass  of  men  mani- 
fest no  relish  for  this  feature  of  gospel  inculcation 
and  Christian  character.  In  no  country,  in  no  nation 
under  heaven,  have  men  been  willing  to  bear  with  one 
another  so  much  as  to  allow  the  free  toleration  of  all 
religions,  except  where  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  pre- 
vails, and  the  people  drink  in  gospel  instruction  from 
the  Scriptures  themselves,  the  sacred  fountain  of  Di- 
vine truth. 

Who  invented  a  system  that  thus  strikes  primarily 
at  pride,  resistance,  and  intolerance.  Was  it  the  devil, 
or  was  it  wicked  men,  or  was  it  an  emanation  from 
the  mind  of  a  holy  God  ? 

2.  Persons  in  the  narrowest  circumstances^  and  in 
the  humblest  walks  of  life,  may  he  greatly  useful  if 
they  will. 

The  secluded  female,  shut  up  to  the  care  of  her 
little  ones,  struggling  with  poverty  to  earn  their  daily 
bread,  may  manifest  as  meek  and  quiet  a  spirit  as  her 


IMPORTANCE  OF  GENTLE  VIRTUES.  251 

move  wealthy  fellow-disciples ;  and  if  she  toil  on  with 
holy  gentleness,  contented  with  God's  dealings,  unen- 
vious  of  those  possessing  more  worldly  fortune,  she 
may  do  more  good  than  many  a  disciple  of  less  humil- 
ity, whose  name  always  stands  among  the  foremost  in 
great  enterprises  for  the  church  of  God.  The  gentler 
virtues  are  the  highest  means  of  usefulness.  God 
will  exhibit  the  result.  It  is  in  his  sight  of  great 
price. 

3.  It  18  hazardous  for  Chinstians  generally  to 
exercise  themselves  in  high  matters. 

Moses  may  go  to  Pharaoh  and  attempt  to  control 
the  counsels  of  a  nation.  His  mind  was  familiar 
with  great  national  movements ;  he  could  aim  at  such 
an  influence  without  endangering  his  meekness,  and 
was  especially  safe,  because  he  acted  under  an  imme- 
diate Divine  direction.  So  Daniel  may  exert  a  pow- 
erful sway  at  the  court  of  Babylon,  when  the  Lord 
has  given  him  great  influence,  and  great  wisdom,  and 
courtly  manners,  and  the  favor  of  the  monarch.  But 
when  a  passion  rises  in  the  bosom  of  multitudes  of 
Christians  to  guide  the  national  counsels;  when  our 
young  men  and  females,  of  limited  education,  under- 
take to  direct  the  whole  popular  will  in  regard  to 
vexed  questions — questions,  with  respect  to  which  our 
wisest  men,  in  church  and  state,  have  been  at  their 
wits'  end,  I  can  but  tremble  with  apprehension,  lest 
the  meek  and  quiet  spirit  through  which  good  influ- 
ence is  mainly  exerted,  should  be  lost  sight  of. 

4.  Christian  ge7itleness  is  a  highly  impoi^tant  test  of 


252  SERMON  XIII. 

character.  In  my  opinion,  nothing  can  so  quickly 
and  fatally  mar  our  Christian  comfort,  as  the  exercise 
of  harsh  passions :  and  nothing  so  invites  and  cherishes 
all  Christian  graces  in  the  heart  as  the  possession  of 
a  meek  and  quiet  spirit. 

5.  Finally.  The  way  of  salvation  is  alike  plain  and 
delightful.  Be  quiet,  be  gentle,  and  unresisting.  If 
reproof  comes  from  the  word  of  God,  take  it  as  a 
favor.  If  a  Christian  friend  administer  a  rebuke, 
consider  it  as  an  excellent  oil.  If  God  chasten  you, 
kiss  the  rod  and  bless  him  that  hath  appointed  it. 
Sit  down  at  your  Saviour's  feet  with  the  teachableness 
of  a  little  child,  and  it  shall  be  well.  You  shall  pos- 
sess a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  in  the  sight  of  God 
is  of  great  price. 


SERMON   XIY. 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING  S  SON. 

And  Jesus  answered  and  spake  unto  them  again  in  parables, 
AND  SAID,  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  unto  a  certain  king, 

WHICH  MADE  A  MARRIAGE  FOR  HIS  SON.  AnD  SENT  FORTH  HIS  SER- 
VANTS TO  CALL  THEM  THAT  WERE  BIDDEN  TO  THE  WEDDING  :  AND  THEY 
WOULD  NOT  COME.       AgAIN,  HE  SENT  FORTH  OTHER  SERVANTS,  SAYING, 

Tell  them  which  are  bidden,  Behold,  i  have  prepared  my  din- 
ner;   MY  oxen  and  my  FATLINGS   ARE  KILLED,  AND  ALL  THINGS  ARE 

ready:  come  unto  the  marriage.     But  they  made  light  of  it, 

AND    WENT    their  WAYS,    ONE    TO    HIS    FARM,    AND    ANOTHER    TO    HIS 

merchandise:  And  the  remnant  took  his  servants,  and  en- 
treated THEM  spitefully,  AND  SLEW  THEM.  BuT  WHEN  THE 
KING  HEARD  THEREOF,  HE  WAS  WROTH  :  AND  HE  SENT  FORTH  HIS 
ARMIES,  AND  DESTROYED  THOSE    MURDERERS,  AND    BURNT    UP  THEIR 

CITY.     Then  saith  he  to  his  servants.  The  wedding  is  ready, 

BUT  THEY  WHICH  WERE  BIDDEN  WERE  NOT  WORTHY.  Go  YE  THERE- 
FORE INTO  THE  HIGHWAYS  ;  AND  AS  MANY  AS  YE  SHALL  FIND,  BID  TO 
THE  MARRIAGE.  So  THOSE  SERVANTS  WENT  OUT  INTO  THE  HIGH- 
WAYS, AND  GATHERED  TOGETHER  ALL,  AS  MANY  AS  THEY  FOUND, 
BOTH  BAD  AND  GOOD  :  AND  THE  WEDDING  WAS  FURNISHED  WITH 
GUESTS.  And  when  the  king  came  in  to  see  the  GUESTS,  HE 
SAW  THERE  A  MAN  WHICH  HAD  NOT  ON  A  WEDDING  GARMENT:  AnD 
HE  SAITH  UNTO  HIM,  FrIEND,  HOW  CAMEST  THOU  IN  HITHER,  NOT 
HAVING  A  WEDDING  GARMENT?  AnD  HE  WAS  SPEECHLESS.  TlIEN 
SAID  THE  KING  TO  THE  SERVANTS,  BiND  HIM  HAND  AND  FOOT,  AND 
TAKE    HIM    AWAY,    AND    CAST    HIM    INTO     OUTER     DARKNESS  :     THERE 

22 


254  SERMON  XIV. 

SHALL     BE    WEEPING    AND     GNASHING     OF     TEETH.       FOR    MANY    ARE 
CALLED,  BUT  FEW  ARE  CHOSEN.       Mat.  XXII.   1 — 14, 

Tins  parable  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with  that 
of  the  great  supper,  found  in  the  14th  chapter  of  the 
gospel  according  to  Luke.     Though  alike  in  the  gene- 
ral idea  of  representing  the  provisions  of  the  gospel 
by  a  feast,  its  promulgation  by  invitations  sent  out, 
and  the  sinfulness  of  those  that  reject  it  by  the  un- 
grateful neglect  of  the  invited  guests ;  still,  there  are 
several  striking  points  of  difference  between  the  two. 
They  were  not  spoken  on  the  same  occasion.     The 
parable  of  the  supper  was  uttered  at  a  feast  to  which 
our  Lord  was  invited  by  one  of  the  chief  of  the  Pha- 
risees.    That  of  the  marriage  of  the  king's  son  was 
spoken  in  the  temple.     There  are  several  points  of 
difference,  also,  in  the  character  of  the  two  composi- 
tions Avhich  show  conclusively  that  they  are  not  differ- 
ent versions  of  the  same  discourse.     One  describes 
an  ordinary  banquet  of  some  opulent  citizen.     A  feast, 
as  we  may  well  suppose,  very  much  like  that  at  which 
our  Saviour  was  then  sitting.     The  other  sets  before 
us  the  marriage  festival  of  the  son  of  a  great  monarch. 
In  the  former,  the  sinfulness  of  declining  the  provi- 
sions  of  grace  is  portrayed,   and  the  intimation   is 
made  that  those  distinguished  and  privileged  classes, 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  should  be  deprived  of  its 
eternal  blessings,  while  those  in  the  streets  and  lanes, 
persons  of  an  inferior  condition,  publicans  and  har- 
lots, should  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.     In  the 
latter,  an  exhibition  is  made  of  the  more  active  wick- 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE   KINU'S  SON.  255 

edness  of  the  Jewish  people  when  that  spirit  of  vio- 
lent hate  was  rising  which  terminated  in  their  crucify- 
ing the  Son  of  God,  and  putting  to  death  the  early 
propagator  of  Christianity,  and  the  calling  of  the 
Gentiles,  is  predicted.  In  addition  to  this,  the  parable 
of  the  marriage  feast  introduces  a  new  discrimination 
of  persons  not  at  all  alluded  to  in  the  parable  of  the 
supper.  It  sets  forth  two  distinct  and  successive  ex- 
ecutions of  judgment.  In  the  JSrst,  our  Lord  speaks 
of  the  punishment  of  those  who  persecuted  and  put  to 
death  the  messengers  of  salvation,  by  saying  that  the 
king  "was  wroth,  that  he  sent  forth  his  armies,  and 
destroyed  those  murderers,  and  burnt  up  their  city." 
In  the  second,  he  alludes  to  the  punishment  of  such 
as  nominally  comply  with  the  invitation,  without  pos- 
sessing the  qualifications  requisite  to  be  admitted  to  a 
place  among  the  blest,  under  the  figure  of  a  man  in 
the  festal  hall  who  had  not  on  a  wedding  garment.  In 
other  words,  he  first  distinguishes  between  those  who 
openly  despise  the  gospel,  and  those  that  publicly 
and  openly  receive  it.  When  he  has  drawn  a  lively 
picture  of  the  destruction  of  all  those  open  despisers, 
he  proceeds  to  make  a  closer  discrimination,  and  to 
sliow^,  in  the  character  and  destiny  of  an  individual, 
that  some  who  had  found  a  place  among  the  righteous, 
would  be  cast  out.  This  last  separation  between  true 
and  spurious  Christians  is  a  sufficient  basis  for  a  dis- 
tinct discourse.  I  shall,  therefore,  at  this  time,  limit 
my  exposition  to  the  first  part  of  the  parable,  ending 
with  the  judgment  executed  on  open  despisers,  and 
the  sending  of  the  gospel  to  others. 


256  SERMON  XIV. 

Contemplating  this  portion  by  itself,  a  complete 
dramatic  effect  is  produced.  The  piece  has  three  dis- 
tinct acts.  In  the  first,  the  king,  and  his  servants, 
and  their  action  in  providing  the  feast,  represent 
God,  and  those  subordinate  agents  that  act  with  him 
in  making  provision  for  the  salvation  of  man.  In  this 
act,  but  one  class  of  persons  appears.  A  party  is  to 
be  introduced,  it  is  true,  of  a  very  different  character 
— one  that  will  appear  in  violent  conflict  with  the 
king  and  his  servants.  But  throughout  the  first  act 
everything  is  harmonious  and  delightful.  One  great 
and  pleasing  end  is  before  the  mind.  It  is  the  honor- 
ing of  the  king's  son,  and  the  securing  a  large  parti- 
cipation in  his  enjoyment  on  the  part  of  favored  sub- 
jects of  the  government.  One  means  is  proposed  for 
achieving  this  object.  The  preparation  of  a  banquet, 
the  magnificence  of  which  shall  become  the  royal 
state  of  him  that  provides  it,  and  the  occasion  that 
gives  it  rise,  and  the  end  to  be  achieved. 

The  servants  obedient  to  the  behests  of  one  wise, 
benevolent,  and  glorious  monarch,  are  all  alert  in  ac- 
tion, and  every  endeavor  concurs  to  produce  the  one 
happy  result.  The  scene  is  laid  in  the  metropolis  of 
a  great  empire.  As  we  approach  it,  we  behold  a 
kingly  palace.  Its  lofty  dome  glitters  in  the  sun. 
As  we  come  nearer,  we  descry  througli  the  Elysian 
groves  that  encircle  it,  brilliant  walls  of  marble  and 
splendid  colonnades.  We  enter  through  corridors 
paved  with  mosaics,  and  pass  by  elegant  statues,  and 
perceive  the  sharp  sound  of  our  footfalls  muffled  in 
the  soft  tones  of  murmuring  fountains.     Thence  we 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON.  257 

pass  into  the  great  festal  chamber.  The  looms  of 
Persia  have  been  laid  under  contribution  for  its  rich 
carpets  and  the  pictured  tapestry  of  its  walls.  From 
the  vaulted  ceilings  depend  lamps  glittering  with  gems 
and  gold,  while  magnificent  mirrors  multiply  a  hun- 
dredfold this  array  of  sumptuous  elegance.  Tables 
curiously  wrought  and  inlaid  with  ebony,  and  ivory, 
and  precious  stones,  are  extended  through  the  long 
apartment,  making  room  for  a  thousand  guests.  The 
active  servants  are  seen  everywhere  bringing  out  the 
service  of  gold,  and  arraying  it  in  the  best  manner 
for  individual  and  general  effect.  Some  are  abroad 
making  purchases  of  spices  and  various  condiments 
that  will  be  needed  in  the  preparation  of  the  feast ; 
some  are  ordering  ornaments  and  flowers  for  garnish- 
ing the  tables,  and  some  are  practising  their  parts  in 
the  preparation  of  an  orchestra  of  delicious  music, 
while  others  are  going  forth  with  notes  of  invitation. 
The  king  himself  comes  in,  and  surveys  the  scene,  and 
beholds  with  satisfaction  the  progress  of  the  work. 
Everything  in  these  general  preparations  is  in  perfect 
order.  The  day  of  the  feast  approaches.  The  in- 
terest deepens.  The  oxen  and  fatlings  are  killed. 
All  things  are  ready.  The  servants  are  now  dis- 
patched according  to  custom  to  inform  the  previously 
invited  guests  that  the  dinner  is  prepared,  and  to  bid 
them  come  now  to  the  marriage  feast. 

Thus  far  we  have  placed  before  us  the  king,  his 
benevolent  provision,  and  the  harmonious  unresisted 
action  employed  in  preparing  for  such  an  august  and 

22* 


258  SERMON  XIV. 

happ)^  occasion.  The  spiritual  instruction  intended  to 
be  conveyed  by  all  this  is  exceedingly  obvious.  By  the 
king  is  intended  the  infinite  God.  This,  on  many  ac- 
counts, is  one  of  the  best  images  by  which  to  represent 
the  Deity.  Yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  all  those 
figurative  representations  are  defective.  God  is  an 
infinite  king.  His  moral  character  is  one  of  supreme 
goodness.  His  monarchy  is  commensurate  with  the 
whole  universe ;  his  resources  are  boundless. 

The  feast  sets  forth  the  provisions  of  the  gospel. 
The  analogies  subsisting  between  such  a  festive  enter- 
tainment, and  the  spiritual  blessings  adumbrated  by  it, 
must  not  be  traced  out  with  too  much  minuteness.  It 
is  enough  to  say  that  a  general  resemblance  between 
the  two  is  plainly  perceptible.  In  both,  the  enjoyment 
is  rich  and  various ;  the  free  intercourse  of  congenial 
minds  is  involved  and  reciprocal  sentiments  of  good- 
will are  implied  as  existing  between  him  that  provided 
the  feast  and  his  favored  guests. 

The  utmost  harmony  has  prevailed  in  the  progress 
of  these  preparations.  The  counsels  of  the  king  have 
imparted  unity  to  the  whole  plan  of  the  operations, 
while  the  unquestioning  obedience  and  alacrity  of  the 
servants  have  rendered  all  their  practical  movements 
perfectly  harmonious. 

Precisely  such  has  been  the  preparation  of  the  pro- 
visions of  grace.  The  disturbing  element  which  ap- 
pears in  the  second  act  of  this  wonderful  drama  is  not 
developed — is  not  exhibited  in  the  least  degree  in  the 
devising  and  preparing  the  provisions  of  Divine  mercy. 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINg'S  SON.  259 

The  scheme  originated  in  the  unsolicited  benevolence 
of  God.  His  unaided  wisdom  formed  the  plan  and 
holy  subordinate  beings  co-operated  in  its  accomplish- 
ment. 

This  brings  us  to  a  new  and  extraordinary  devel- 
opment— to  what  I  have  termed  the  second  act  of  the 
drama.  An  element  which  has  not  hitherto  appeared 
is  introduced.  It  is  an  element  of  discord,  changing 
this  scene  of  love  into  an  arena  of  strife.  The  first 
occasion  of  this  conflict  is  the  going  forth  of  the  ser- 
vants of  the  king,  in  that  very  spirit  of  love  which 
had  wrought  with  such  sweetness  in  preparing  the 
feast,  to  inform  the  invited  guests  that  the  banquet 
was  now  ready  and  awaiting  their  arrival.  The  call 
is  slighted.  They  would  not  come.  The  invitation  is 
renewed  with  the  same  kindness,  and  as  a  second  in- 
vitation, in  such  cases,  implies,  with  increased  urgency. 
This  urgency  becomes  the  occasion  of  the  moral  con- 
flict's being  exchanged  for  violent  hostilities.  The 
invited  guests,  provoked  by  the  reiteration  and  urgency 
with  which  the  king's  claims  are  presented,  strike  the 
first  blow.  Blood  flows.  The  innocent  servants  of  the 
king,  while  the  messages  of  love  are  on  their  lips,  are 
seized  and  murdered.  The  king,  incensed  both  by  the 
contempt  of  his  generous  provisions,  and  by  the  atro- 
cious murders  committed,  sends  an  overAvhelming  force 
and  destroys  the  assailants,  and  burns  up  their  city. 
We  have  here  a  lively  picture  of  the  first  preachers  of 
the  gospel,  of  the  opposition  made  to  them  by  the 
Jews,  and  of  the  destruction  with  which  they  were 


260  SERMON  XIV. 

overwhelmed  as  a  consequence.  There  are  certain  al- 
lusions in  this  part  of  the  story  which  belong  to  the 
persons  and  circumstances  then  existing — but  it  will 
be  seen,  as  we  proceed,  that  great  principles  are  in- 
volved in  the  narrative — principles  that  find  an  illus- 
tration in  the  conflict  of  Christianity  with  the  world  in 
every  subsequent  age. 

The  first  invitation  of  the  servants  may  be  regarded 
as  having  reference,  primarily,  to  the  calls  of  the  pro- 
phets, and  all  those  previous  intimations  made  in  the 
Old  Testament  scriptures,  that  they  should  believe  on 
him  that  was  to  come,  while  the  early  preachers  of  the 
gospel,  that  spoke  plainly  of  Jesus  and  the  resurrec- 
tion, are  the  servants  referred  to  when  it  is  said  of  the 
king  "He  sent  forth  other  servants,  saying.  Tell  them 
which  are  bidden.  Behold,  I  have  prepared  my  dinner; 
my  oxen  and  my  fatlings  are  killed,  and  all  things 
are  ready:  come  unto  the  marriage." 

There  is  something  analogous  to  this  double  call 
now,  in  the  manner  in  which  the  invitations  of  mercy 
are  brought  to  bear  on  individual  minds.  Spiritual 
instruction  is  infused  into  the  minds  of  sinners  gradu- 
ally, so  that,  though  the  provisions  of  grace  were,  in 
themselves,  rendered  complete  when  our  blessed  Sav- 
iour bowed  his  head  and  said,  "It  is  finished,''  yet  they 
do  not  appear  in  their  completeness,  to  an  individual 
mind,  till  the  elements  of  the  Christian  system  have 
been  successively  received.  While  this  process  of  ac- 
quiring  the    elementary    conceptions    of  the   gospel 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON.  261 

scheme  is  going  on,  the  individual  is  in  a  state  analo- 
gous to  that  of  the  whole  Jewish  mind  previously  to 
the  coming  of  Christ.  The  teachings  of  childhood,  in 
the  case  of  those  who  have  a  Christian  education,  have, 
at  least,  accomplished  the  object  of  the  first  call.  In 
their  maturer  convictions  they  hear  the  declaration, 
all  things  are  ready — they  perceive  that  nothing  is 
wanting  for  their  salvation  but  that  they  should  cor- 
dially comply  with  the  invitations  of  the  gospel.  How 
often  has  this  statement  been  verified  in  the  experience 
of  those  who  now  hear  me.  Christian  instruction,  as 
it  has  fallen  from  the  lips  of  parents,  and  teachers, 
and  pastors,  or  as  it  has  beamed  into  the  mind  from 
the  perused  chapters  of  the  Bible,  has  made  a  distinct 
impression  that  you  were  invited  to  the  gospel  feast. 
The  conviction,  however,  was  not  deep  and  urgent. 
Other  objects  occupied  your  mind,  and  you  easily  re- 
sisted the  call,  and  "would  not  come."  Then  came  a 
more  pressing  invitation.  Some  special  and  peculiarly 
adapted  appeal  was  made.  The  providence  of  God 
and  the  strivings  of  the  Holy  Spirit  concurred.  It 
was  to  your  convictions  a  golden  opportunity,  a  favor- 
able time.  It  was  as  if  new  messengers  had  come, 
saying,  "Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time;  behold, 
now  is  the  day  of  salvation."  Then  you  took  a  course 
which  seems  as  if  you  had  intended  to  illustrate  what 
follows.  "But  they  made  light  of  it,  and  went  their 
ways,  one  to  his  farm,  and  another  to  his  merchandise." 
This  is  not  a  mere  history  of  the  action  of  the  Jewish 


262  SERMON  XIV. 

mind  in  certain  circumstances.  It  is  an  exemplifica- 
tion of  the  workings  of  human  depravity.  Men  do 
naturally,  and  as  is  said  in  another  place,  "with  one 
consent,"  make  light  of  the  provisions  of  mercy  by 
indicating  a  clear  preference  of  worldly  good,  over 
the  rich  gifts  of  the  heavenly  grace.  The  force  of  the 
statement,  "they  made  light  of  it,"  is  to  be  estimated 
by  what  it  was  that  they  thus  lightly  esteemed,  and 
the  comparative  value  of  the  consideration  to  which 
they  gave  the  preference.  To  make  light  of  a  small 
proffered  favor  might  be  a  comparatively  trifling  of- 
fence. But  when  a  subject,  in  an  humble  and  depend- 
ent condition,  makes  light  of  an  invitation  to  the  mar- 
riage festival  of  the  son  of  his  king,  the  ingratitude 
and  wickedness  of  such  a  contempt  bears  some  propor- 
tion to  the  excellency  of  the  provision,  the  design  with 
which  it  was  made,  and  the  greatness  and  goodness — 
the  real  glory  of  the  reigning  monarch.  But  what  is 
the  provision  which  God  has  proffered  you  in  the  gos- 
pel? It  is  a  provision  as  rich  as  infinite  wisdom  and 
benevolence,  with  boundless  resources  and  unlimited 
power,  could  make.  As  a  great  earthly  king  puts  in 
requisition  all  his  power  and  skill  in  making  a  mar- 
riage feast  for  his  son,  so  God  is  represented  as  spar- 
ing nothing  in  his  provisions  of  grace.  He  proffers  to 
you  a  full  participation  in  the  glory  that  belongs  to 
the  union  of  Christ  and  his  church.  He  invites  you 
into  his  own  mansion.  As  Solomon  show^ed  the  queen 
of  Sheba  "his  wisdom,  and  the  house  he  had  built,  and 
the  meat  of  his  table,  and  the  sitting  of  his  servants, 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON.  263 

and  the  attendance  of  liis  ministers,  and  their  apparel, 
and  his  cup-bearers,  and  his  ascent  by  which  he  went 
up  into  the  house  of  the  Lord" — so  does  God  show  you, 
in  the  proffers  of  his  grace,  all  the  glory  of  his  realm, 
and  then  invites  you  to  the  full  and  free  participation 
of  it  all. 

This  it  is,  of  which  you  make  light,  when  you  de- 
cline the  provisions  of  the  gospel.  In  doing  this 
you  do  not  simply  undervalue  the  objects.  By  the 
most  obvious  construction  you  make  light  of  the  glori- 
ous author  of  these  provisions.  You  make  light  of  the 
goodness  that  prompted  the  scheme,  of  the  wisdom  that 
contrived  it,  of  the  power  that  energized  it,  and  the 
compassion  that  bled  in  its  accomplishment.  And 
what  is  the  object  of  your  preference — the  considera- 
tion for  which  you  renounce  the  glorious  provisions  of 
divine  grace  ?  If  the  consideration  were  a  great  one 
— if  it  were  an  ample  possession  of  the  goods  of  for- 
tune, with  the  enjoyments  of  science,  and  literature, 
and  refined  society,  and  an  eternal  round  of  earthly 
pleasures,  accompanied  Avith  perfect  health,  and  an 
immortal  existence,  the  prospect  of  obtaining  so  great 
an  end  by  neglecting  heaven,  might  seem  to  palliate 
the  guilt  and  folly.  But  nothing  of  this  kind  is  once 
thought  of.  The  gospel  feast  is  made  light  of,  for  the 
mere  purpose  of  enjoying  or  seeking  the  most  tran- 
sient and  uncertain  wordly  good.  No  other  earthly  ad- 
vantage is  referred  to  in  the  text  but  possessions.  This 
is  natural,  because  wealth  stands  as  the  representative 
of   all  the    earthly  good   w^hich   man  can  attain   to. 


264  SERMON  XIV. 

Hence  mammon  is  called  the  god  of  this  world,  and 
an  apostle  has  told  us  that  the  love  of  money  is  the  root 
of  all  evil. 

The  servants  that  trifled  with  the  invitation  of  their 
king,  however,  did  not  possess  the  apology  of  a  need- 
ful care  of  their  possessions.  The  farm  and  the  mer- 
chandise may  probably  refer  to  an  estate  in  the  one 
case,  and  in  the  other  to  the  means  of  acquiring  one. 
The  farm  is  the  villa  to  which  a  wealthy  man  retires 
to  enjoy  his  gains.  The  merchandise  is  the  active 
business  which  is  prosecuted  for  the  purpose  of  amass- 
ing a  fortune.  Each  alike  becomes  the  occasion  of 
making  light  of  the  provisions  of  the  gospel.  Hence, 
the  rich  and  the  poor  slight  the  heavenly  treasure  for 
the  same  reason.  One  for  the  country-seat  already 
in  possession,  another  for  the  commerce  by  which  he 
means  to  buy  one.  One  for  gold  in  the  bank,  another 
for  gold  in  California.  One  for  a  large  estate,  an- 
other for  a  more  limited  possession.  All,  however,  are 
swayed  by  the  same  spirit — a  preference  of  worldly 
good  over  the  rich  and  eternal  provisions  of  God's 
grace. 

In  all  this  it  is  easy  to  be  deceived.  It  is  not  sin- 
ful to  be  rich.  It  is  not  a  crime  to  enorao:e  in  com- 
merce  and  to  gain  a  standing  with  our  merchant  princes. 
It  is  not  wicked  to  pick  up  gold  on  the  placers 
where  God  has  scattered  it.  But  it  is  wicked  to  take 
the  gifts  of  a  bountiful  Providence  and  to  allow  them 
a  place  in  the  mind  superior  to  that  of  the  treasures 
of  the  gospel.     No  form  of  wickedness  is  more  deeply 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON.  265 

censured  in  the  Scriptures  than  this  over-estimate  of 
worldly  good,  when  compared  with  heavenly  treasures. 
The  marriage  feast  is  now  easily  slighted.  A  few 
paltry  gains -are  preferred  to  it.  But,  ah!  beloved 
friends,  another  estimate  shall  be  made.  The  time  of 
the  dread  assize  comes  on  apace. 

The  heavenly  treasures  are  revealed,  in  their  glory  ; 
and  earthly  good,  in  its  emptiness.  Look,  now,  thou 
profane  Esau,  upon  thy  bright  and  glorious  birthright, 
and  the  mess  of  pottage  for  which  thou  didst  barter 
it.  Look,  covetous  Achan,  on  the  silver  and  the 
goodly  Babylonish  vest  and  wedge  of  gold  which  thou 
didst  prefer  to  the  favor  of  the  Grod  of  Israel.  Look, 
ye  worldly  Christians,  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  upon 
the  paltry  price  kept  back,  the  price  for  which  ye 
sold  your  inheritance  among  the  blest.  Look,  thou 
treacherous  Judas,  at  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  told 
out  in  thy  hand  as  that  for  which  thy  cunning  traffick- 
ing spirit  could  deliberately  sell  its  Saviour  and  all 
the  eternal  blessings  of  his  grace.  Look,  thou  retired 
man  of  wealth,  who  dost  prefer  thy  gains  to  treasures 
laid  up  in  heaven — look  at  thy  grounds  and  buildings, 
held  by  others ;  at  thy  body,  shut  up  in  the  narrow 
grave  ;  and  thy  unforgiven  spirit,  barred  out  of  the 
heavenly  mansion.  Look,  thou  busy  merchant,  at 
thy  commerce  and  its  uncertain  profits,  and  contrast 
these  with  thy  spiritual  estate,  and  tell  us,  if  thou 
knowest,  what  will  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  soul?  Look,  all  ye  that 
have  made  light  of  God's  feast  of  love,  because  ye 
23 


266  SERMON  XIV. 

preferred  the  trifles  of  earth  to  the  heavenly  riches; 
because  ye  chose  those  glittering  toys  in  preference  to 
the  eternal  favor  of  your  Maker — look  at  j^our  work 
of  self-destruction,  and  tell  us  if  it  be' not  folly  in 
those  invited  to  the  marriage  to  make  light  of  it,  and 
to  turn  one  to  his  farm,  and  another  to  his  merchan- 
dise. 

In  addition  to  this  turning  away  from  the  provisions 
of  mercy,  a  portion  of  those  that  received  the  mes- 
sage persecuted  to  the  death  the  preachers  of  the  gos- 
pel. "  The  remnant  took  his  servants  and  entreated 
them  spitefully,  and  slew  them." 

To  those  who  have  the  least  acquaintance  with  the 
history  of  the  early  church,  nothing  need  be  said  to 
justify  this  prediction.  The  beheading  of  John  and 
the  stoning  of  Stephen,  and  the  cruel  murder  of  thou- 
sands of  the  servants  of  God,  during  the  first  centu- 
ries, are  most  exact  fulfilments  of  what  is  here  de- 
clared. If  it  be  asked  what  we  have  to  do  with 
this ;  I  answer,  the  passage  is,  at  least,  a  standing 
monument  of  the  tendencies  of  human  depravity.  As 
the  dilapidated  temples  and  broken  statues  of  Egypt 
and  Athens  are  proofs  of  human  genius,  and  of  the 
tendencies  of  the  human  mind  to  produce  works  of  art, 
so  these  records  of  ancient  persecution  are  monuments 
of  the  native  tendencies  of  the  human  heart  to  resist 
with  a  deadly  hate  the  claims  of  God.  If  such  de- 
velopments seldom  appear  in  our  happy  country,  at 
the  present  time,  it  is  because  Christianity  has  dis- 
placed cruel  superstitions,  and  infused  a  portion  of  its 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON.  267 

gentleness  into  our  civil  and  political  institutions. 
But  human  nature  in  its  tendencies  is  the  same. 
There  is  a  depth  and  power  in  depraved  principles 
which  might  fill  any  reflecting  mind,  lest,  like  Hazael, 
Avhen  the  prophet  predicted  that  he  should  murder  his 
royal  master,  he  might  think  himself  safe,  Avhile  the 
seeds  of  deepest  crime  were  sprouting  in  his  heart. 

As  a  dreadful  finale  of  this  second  act  of  the  drama, 
we  have  the  terrible  retribution  of  the  incensed  sove- 
reign. "  When  the  kino;  heard  thereof,  he  was  wroth  : 
and  he  sent  forth  his  armies,  and  destroyed  those  mur- 
derers, and  burnt  up  their  city." 

A  primary  reference  is  had  here  to  the  destruction 
of  the  Jewish  state.  The  Roman  legions  were  his 
armies.  The  investment  of  Jerusalem  by  Titus,  the 
sack  and  burning  of  the  city,  and  the  slaughter  of 
more  than  eleven  hundred  thousand  of  Jews,  made 
good  the  prediction.  Yet,  we  are  not  to  suppose  that 
this  temporal  judgment  was  all.  This  destruction  was 
but  the  door  of  entrance  to  an  everlasting  destruction 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  and  the  glory  of  his 
power.  The  judgments  of  God,  like  his  mercies,  are 
on  a  scale  of  immense  magnificence.  When  he  calls 
Abraham,  and  makes  a  covenant  with  him,  it  is  that 
his  spiritual  offspring  may  become  more  numerous  than 
the  stars.  When  he  gives  dominion  to  Christ,  it  ex- 
tends over  the  whole  earth,  and  his  ransomed  people 
are  a  great  multitude  which  no  man  can  number.  So 
his  judgments  are  a  flood  brought  upon  the  world  of 
the  ungodly — fire  from  heaven  upon  the  cities  of  the 


268  SERMON  XIV. 

plain,  and  Jerusalem  sacked  by  the  Roman  armies; 
and,  in  the  final  day,  all  nations  are  gathered  before 
him,  and  divided  into  two  great  companies,  and  made 
respectively  the  objects  of  his  never-ending  blessing 
and  curse.  Yet,  in  this  broad  sweep  of  judgment,  in- 
dividuals can  never  be  neglected.  Each  individual 
sinner  that  has  heard  the  invitation  to  the  marriage 
feast,  and  would  not  come,  is  involved  in  the  general 
overthrow  of  God's  enemies,  and  every  one  of  us  will 
be  either  one  of  these  objects  of  the  Divine  displea- 
sure, or  one  of  those  that  have  been  constrained  to 
accept  the  invitation  of  mercy. 

After  this  dreadful  conclusion  of  the  struggle  be- 
tween the  king  and  those  invited  to  his  banquet,  the 
story  proceeds  with  the  account  of  the  successful  part 
of  the  work  of  calling  in  the  invited  guests. 

Here,  also,  as  in  what  we  called  the  first  act  of  the 
drama,  we  have  the  description  of  a  delightful  work. 
"  The  servants  went  out  into  the  highways,  and  ga- 
thered together  all  as  many  as  they  found,  both  bad 
and  good :  and  the  wedding  was  furnished  with  guests." 
That  is,  the  messengers  of  salvation  turned  to  the 
Gentiles.  They  found  some,  like  Cornelius  the  centu- 
rion, who  seemed  to  be  w^aiting  for  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Others,  of  the  most  abandoned  character,  lis- 
tened to  the  call,  and  gladly  complied  with  the  invi- 
tation. Multitudes  from  every  class  of  society  and 
every  grade  of  moral  character,  embraced  the  gospel 
and  became  participants  in  all  its  benefits.     The  be- 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON.  269 

nevolent  design  of  God  in  making  the  provisions  of 
grace  is  not  frustrated.  If  some  count  themselves 
unworthy  of  eternal  life,  the  gospel  is  made  effectual 
for  others.  Here  the  Divine  goodness  appears  again 
successfully  working,  as  it  did  in  the  first  part,  in 
making  the  provisions.  To  Christ  it  was  promised 
that  he  should  have  a  seed  to  serve  him.  That  pro- 
mise is  fulfilled.  The  word  of  God,  though  resisted, 
is  not  hound.  It  has  free  course  and  is  glorified.  A 
mad  and  persecuting  Saul  is  subdued,  and  sits  like  the 
recovered  demoniac,  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  clothed  and 
in  his  right  mind.  A  polluted  idolater  is  washed  and 
sanctified.  A  proud  philosopher  is  made  an  humble 
disciple.  Lofty  princes  and  lowly  peasants,  persons 
of  probity  and  honor,  publicans  and  harlots,  all,  as 
many  as  the  messengers  find,  both  bad  and  good,  are 
gathered,  and  are  seen  pressing  into  the  heavenly 
banquet. 

It  is  so  still.  You  may  decline  the  invitation,  yet 
the  gospel  shall  not  be  proclaimed  in  vain.  While 
you  fancy  yourself  too  good  to  need  the  gracious  pro- 
visions of  the  gospel,  others  of  higher  quality  shall 
shame  your  pretensions  by  confessing  humbly  to  God 
that  they  are  among  the  chief  of  sinners  and  "  less 
than  the  least  of  all  the  saints."  While  you  regard 
yourself  as  being  too  wise  to  embrace  a  system  which 
was  to  philosophic  Greeks  foolishness,  others,  from  the 
highest  walks  of  science,  shall  bring  their  laurels  and 
lay  them  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  and  confess  themselves 
only  childlike  learners  in  his  school.     While  you  shall 

23* 


270  SERMON  XIV. 

think  of  yourself  as  too  highly  elevated  in  your  social 
position  to  embrace  the  Christian  faith,  others  from 
higher  stations  shall  count  it  their  greatest  honor  to 
\)e  permitted  to  come  to  the  marriage  feast.  Moses 
refused  to  be  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter, 
and  preferred  affliction  with  the  people  of  God  to  all 
the  treasures  of  Egj^pt ;  and  from  that  day  to  the  pre- 
sent hour  kings  have  been  glad  to  reckon  themselves 
among  the  servants  of  God,  and  to  hope  in  the  Divine 
mercy  as  displayed  in  the  provisions  of  the  gospel. 
Or,  if  you  think  of  yourself  as  too  inconsiderable  to 
make  it  reasonable  that  you  should  be  the  object  of 
such  a  provision,  you  may  reflect  that  the  condescen- 
sion of  God  is  as  extraordinary  as  his  greatness,  that 
he  feeds  the  raven  and  sustains  the  sparrow.  It  is 
equally  manifest  from  the  workings  of  his  providence 
and  the  revelations  of  his  word,  that  "  he  lifts  up  the 
poor  from  the  dust,  and  the  beggar  from  the  dung- 
hill, to  set  them  among  princes,  and  to  cause  them  to 
inherit  the  throne  of  glory."  Or,  if  you  regard  your- 
self as  too  sinful  and  unworthy  ever  to  be  made  a  par- 
taker of  his  grace,  you  may  remember  that  our  Re- 
deemer came  to  call  sinners  to  repentance,  and  that 
many  who  have  been  sunken  down  into  the  lowest 
depths  of  depravity  have  been  recovered  by  the  gos- 
pel. The  scheme  of  mercy  has  no  respect  to  the  pre- 
vious differences  existing  among  men.  The  feast  is 
provided  for  all.  The  invitation  is  universal.  The 
servants  gather  together  all,  as  many  as  they  find, 
both  good  and  bad. 


MARRIAGil  OF  THE  KING'S  SON.  271 

But  let  every  one  invited  to  partake  of  the  provi- 
sions of  the  gospel  remember  this,  too,  that  if  he  does 
not  choose  to  come,  the  scheme  of  grace  will  not  fail. 
If  you  make  light  of  the  provision,  your  poor  servant 
may  receive  it.  If  you  sit  in  the  sanctuary  and  hear 
the  gospel,  and  turn  from  it  to  your  farm  or  your  mer- 
chandise, distant  heathens  will  embrace  it.  If  you 
make  light  of  it,  some  d^ang  malefactor  will  be  called 
in  and  enjoy  the  provisions  which  you  scorned.  You 
have  been  often  called.  In  the  name  of  the  Master  of 
the  feast,  I  invite  you  again.  "  All  things  are  ready : 
come  unto  the  marriage."  Yes,  all  things  in  this  pre- 
paration for  conferring  heavenly  blessings,  are  ready. 
Christ  has  appeared,  fulfilling  the  types  and  predic- 
tions of  the  ancient  Scriptures.  The  Lamb  of  God 
that  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world  has  been  sacri- 
ficed. The  offering  is  complete.  He  bowed  his  head 
and  said,  ''It  is  finished."  The  volume  of  inspired  in- 
struction is  completed.  The  messengers  have  gone 
forth.  The  Holy  Spirit  has  seconded  their  endeavors. 
The  call  has  reached  your  understanding,  quickened 
your  conscience,  and  touched  your  heart.  I  charge  it 
on  you  who  have  been  instructed  in  Christianity,  that 
you  know  your  duty.  Though  you  may  not  be  always 
alike  sensible  to  its  claims,  yet  often,  when  the  calls 
of  this  gospel  sound  in  your  ears,  you  are  fully  aware 
of  your  obligations  to  comply  with  them.  Through 
long  custom,  it  may  seem  a  small  matter  to  make 
light  of  it.  Yet,  in  making  light  of  it,  you  make 
light  of  the  great  God  that  formed  the  scheme;  of  the 


272  SERMON  XIV. 

Saviour  that  died  to  carry  it  into  practical  operation, 
and  of  all  that  long-suffering,  and  those  heavenly 
agencies,  that  are  employed  in  it.  You  do  this,  too, 
for  a  most  unworthy  and  paltry  consideration,  the 
mere  possessions  and  enterprises  of  a  few  years,  the 
farms  and  merchandise  of  a  brief,  uncertain  existence. 
And  yet,  judgment  lingers  not.  Mercy  despised, 
will  bring  awful  retribution.  Deep  will  be  your  sor- 
row, and  unavailing  your  regrets,  when  you  shall  see 
that  the  blessings  which  were  provided  for  you,  arc 
lost,  and  that  others  entered  in  and  enjoyed  them. 
"When  you  shall  see  white  robed  millions  of  ransomed 
souls  standing  within  the  battlements  of  heaven,  and 
yourself  cast  out. 


SERMON    XY. 

THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST. 
AND  HE  "WAS  SPEECHLESS.     Matthew  xxii.  12. 

This  text  is  a  part  of  that  beautiful  parable  upon 
wliicli  the  preceding  discourse  is  founded.  The  pro- 
visions of  the  gospel,  the  publishing  of  its  invitations, 
and  the  results,  are  set  forth,  as  before  stated,  in  the 
story  of  a  king  making  a  wedding  feast  for  his  son. 
The  explanation  is  briefly  this.  The  king  preparing 
the  feast,  represents  God  making  the  provisions  of  the 
gospel.  The  sending  forth  of  the  servants  to  call 
the  invited  guests,  refers  to  the  commissioning  of  the 
living  preachers  as  the  messengers  of  Divine  grace. 
By  those  first  invited  making  light  of  the  invitation, 
and  persecuting  the  servants  till  the  king  Avas  wroth, 
and  sent  forth  his  armies  and  destroyed  those  mur- 
derers, and  burnt  up  their  city,  are  intended  the 
Jewish  people  rejecting  the  gospel,  and  the  conse- 
quent destruction  of  themselves  and  of  Jerusalem  by 
the  Roman  armies.  The  servants  thence  going  into 
the  highways,  and  gathering  together  all  as  many  as 
they  found,  both  bad  and  good,  represents  the  gather- 
ing of  the  Gentile  nations  to  a  participation  of  the 


274  SERMON  XV. 

blessings  and  institutions  of  the  true  religion.  Ob- 
serve, then,  that  this  gathered  multitude  is  not  as- 
sorted by  any  discriminations  of  character.  The 
servants  gathered  all,  both  bad  and  good.  The  cha- 
racter of  the  assembly  is  represented  by  the  whole  of 
Gentile  Christendom,  or  by  any  Christian  community, 
be  it  large  or  small,  where  merely  nominal  and  real 
believers  are  mingled  together.  The  result,  then,  of 
the  call  has  been  seen.  The  Jews  have  been  rejected, 
and  made  the  subjects  of  overwhelming  judgments, 
and  the  Gentiles  have  been  called  in  and  gathered 
around  the  great  festal  board. 

But  another  division  is  to  be  made,  on  the  basis  of 
a  difference  of  individual  character.  The  king  will 
come  in  to  see  the  guests.  The  last  judgment  is 
obviously  referred  to.  Instead  of  dwelling  upon  the 
separation  of  the  two  great  companies,  the  righteous 
and  the  wicked,  and  their  opposite  destiny,  he  directs 
our  attention  to  an  individual  as  being  unfitted  for 
the  blessings  of  his  spiritual  kingdom.  This  indivi- 
dual is  set  before  us,  not  as  a  remarkably  sinful  man, 
not  as  stained  with  crime,  or  even  as  chargeable  with 
any  immorality.  He  is  simply  unprepared.  He  has 
not  on  a  wedding  garment.  Force  is  added  to  this 
feature  of  the  parable,  by  adverting  to  the  fact  that 
it  was  customary  for  the  kings  of  the  East  to  furnish, 
gratuitously,  all  the  guests  on  such  occasions  with 
changes  of  raiment.  This  is  the  specific  reason  why 
the  unhappy  person  referred  to  was  speechless  when 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  275 

tlie  king  only  said  to  liim,  "  Friend,  how  earnest  thou 
in  hither,  not  having  on  a  wedding  garment?" 

It  is  strictly  accordant  with  the  spirit  of  this  part 
of  the  parable  to  say,  that  if  God  should  propose  such 
a  question  to  you,  ray  unconverted  hearer,  this  hour, 
you  would  be  speechless.  How  came  you  in  this 
Christian  community,  in  the  midst  of  these  religious 
privileges,  in  this  sanctuary  of  God,  without  a  prepa- 
ration to  enter  into  a  spiritual  participation  of  the 
gospel  feast  ?  You  can  give  no  reason  that  will 
satisfy  yourself.  But  a  period  will  arrive  when  this 
identical  question  will  be  propounded.  You  will  not 
be  passed  by  in  a  crowd.  God  will  ask  you  as  an 
individual,  if  you  remain  unconverted  :  "Friend,  how 
camest  thou  in  hither,  not  having  a  wedding  gar- 
ment?" 

YOU    WILL    BE    SPEECHLESS. 

A  very  little  reflection  luill  serve  to  convince  you 
tJiat  you  cannot  claim  deliverance  on  any  ground 
according  to  latv.  You  have  been  for  a  long  time 
placed  under  the  dominion  of  the  law  of  God.  You 
have  seen  that  its  precept  is  exceeding  broad.  It 
has  demanded  of  you  a  supreme  love  to  your  Creator, 
and  a  love  to  your  fellow-men,  equal  to  the  love  you 
bear  to  yourself.  It  has  perfectly  commended  itself 
to  your  conscience,  so  that  you  have  never  in  one 
instance  felt  yourself  bound  to  violate  it  from  a  sense 
of  duty.  The  authority  from  which  this  law  has 
emanated  has  been  revealed  to   you  as  being  as  high 


276  SERMON  XV. 

and  sacred  as  the  law  is  holj.  The  rewards  and 
punishments  by  which  that  authority  is  sustained  are 
as  influential  as  possible,  rich  as  everlasting  life,  ter- 
rific as  eternal  burnings. 

If  God,  then,  ask  you,  "Friend,  how  earnest  thou 
in  hither,  not  having  on  a  wedding  garment?"  you 
will  surely  be  speechless  rather  than  attempt  to  set 
up  a  plea  oi  not  guilty.  You  have  the  most  distinct 
consciousness  of  having  lived  long  in  the  habitual 
transgression  of  the  law  of  God.  There  will,  then, 
be  no  lack  of  testimony  encouraging  such  a  plea. 
You  will  know  that  the  omniscient  Judge  sees  at  a 
glance  every  purpose  of  your  heart.  You  cannot, 
even  now,  retire  to  your  chamber,  and  kneel  down 
alone  before  your  Maker,  and  plead  not  guilty.  You 
cannot  look  up  to  him  and  say,  0  Lord,  thou  knowest 
that  I  have  never  violated  thy  holy  law;  that  I  have, 
like  the  angels  that  are  about  thy  throne,  lived  in 
innocency,  and  now  I  come  to  present  my  nature  to 
thee  all  unsoiled  and  pure,  and  I  expect  to  be  received 
and  admitted  to  thy  kingdom,  because  I  am  not  guilty 
of  any  transgressions  against  thee.  If  you  can  make 
no  such  plea  on  your  bended  knees,  alone  in  your 
chamber,  can  you  make  it  now  when  God  asks  you  in 
the  judgment,  "  Friend,  how  camest  thou  in  hither, 
not  having  on  the  wedding  garment?"  No.  You 
are  speechless. 

Nor  can  you  tuith  any  letter  success  attempt  to  plead 
a  justification  before  your  Maker.  A  man  may  be 
charged  before  a  human  tribunal  with  having  violated 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  277 

tlie  law,  and  yet,  when  the  deeds  which  he  was  alleged 
to  have  done    are  proved,  and  not  denied,  he  may 
sometimes  set  up  a  plea  of  justification  and  fully  sus- 
tain it,  and  demand  and  obtain  a  verdict  in  his  own 
favor.     To  illustrate  this  point  let  us  contemplate  an 
instance,  which   is  not  unusual  before  our  criminal 
courts.     A  man  is  charged  with  deliberately  taking 
the  life  of  a  fellow-man.     The  facts  alleged  in  the  in- 
dictment are  proved,  and  not  denied.    But  now,  if  the 
counsel  for  the  prisoner  can  show  that  the  accused 
was  threatened  by  his  victim  with  instant  death,  that 
he  was  pushed  to  the  very  last  extremity,  and  yet  that 
he  forbore  violent  resistance,  and  that,  when  no  other 
alternative  was  left  him  but  to   suffer  himself  to  be 
basely  murdered,  or  to  strike  at  the  life  of  his  adver- 
sary, he  first  warned  his  victim,  and  begged  of  him 
not  to  compel  him  to  spill  his  blood,  and  that   only 
when  not  another  moment  was  left  to  protect  himself 
he  struck  the  fatal  blow :  I  say  in  such  a  case  the 
counsel   will    sustain    the    plea    of  justification,  and 
demand  and  obtain  from  an  impartial  jury  the  verdict 
of  justifiable  homicide  and  the  release  of  the  prisoner. 
So,  also,  if  it  can  be  made  out  clearly  that  the  per- 
petrator of  the  deed  was  deranged^  and  fully  believed 
himself  to  be  doing  an  act  of  kindness  to  his  victim, 
the  plea  of  justification  would  be  sustained,  and  the 
release  of  the  prisoner  would  be  successfully  sought. 
In  short,  as  our  laws  justly  regard  the  guilt  or  inno- 
cence of  an  accused  party  to  depend  upon  the  "  qico 
aiiimo,^'  or  the  state  of  mind  in  which  an   act  was 
24 


278  SERxMON  XV. 

performed,  any  plea  which  fairly  makes  out  that  the 
act  of  killing  did  not  arise  from  malice  aforethought, 
or  something  equivalent  thereto,  is  a  successful  plea 
of  justification.  But  you  can  set  up  no  such  plea 
and  defence  for  having  transgressed  the  law  of  God. 

You  have  not  been  compelled  to  violate  the  Divine 
law  in  self-defence.  You  have  not  turned  away  from 
your  Maker,  and  clung  with  idolatrous  fondness  to 
his  gifts,  as  a  necessary  means  of  self-protection. 
You  never  seriously  thought  for  one  moment  that  a 
filial,  childlike  trust  in  your  Heavenly  Father  would 
do  you  any  harm.  You  cannot  plead  that  you  have 
been  driven  on  by  a  mad  delirium  to  violate  the  Divine 
law.  Indeed,  your  transgression  cannot  be  charac- 
terized as  an  act,  or  any  number  of  acts ;  it  has  been 
rather  a  continuous  state — you  have  deliberately  lived 
in  sin,  cherishing  a  spirit  of  alienation  from  God,  re- 
fusing overtures  of  grace,  and  saying  to  him,  in  the 
cool  deliberateness  of  a  practical  career  contrary  to 
his  commandments,  Depart  from  me,  for  I  desire  not 
the  knowledge  of  thy  ways.  The  more  you  inquire 
into  the  state  of  mind  with  which  this  course  is 
taken,  the  more  overwhelming  will  be  the  conviction 
that  you  can  maintain  no  plea  of  justification.  If 
you  attempt  it,  you  are  speechless. 

Nor  can  you  'plead  any  palliation  in  mitigation  of 
the  severity  of  2yunish7nent.  It  sometimes  occurs, 
when  an  accused  person  has  been  proved  to  be  guilty 
of  all  that  has  been  alleged  against  him  in  the  in- 
dictment, that  various  palliations  may  be  suggested 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  279 

in  mitigation  of  the  punishment.  Thus,  extreme 
youth  and  mental  imbecllltj,  or  great  provocation,  or 
numerous  and  powerful  temptations,  are  urged  with 
greater  or  less  success.  But  can  you,  my  impenitent 
friend,  bring  forward  any  palliating  circumstances  in 
relation  to  your  sins  against  God  ?  You  have  known 
enough  to  feel  your  obligation  to  cherish  the  sincere 
intention  of  serving  and  pleasing  your  Maker.  If 
you  had  but  one  talent,  you  knew  better  than  to  hide 
that  in  a  napkin.  Indeed,  the  more  feeble  and  limited 
your  powers,  the  more  obvious,  in  some  sort,  are  the 
motives  for  placing  yourself  under  the  wing  of  the 
Divine  protection.  The  government  of  God  is  so  con- 
stituted that  those  of  -the  most  limited  capacities  can 
serve  him  with  equal  acceptance  to  those  possessing 
the  most  exalted  genius.  It  is  not  the  vigor  and 
elevation  of  intellectual  powers  with  which  God  is 
pleased,  but  the  sweetness  of  humility  and  the  sim- 
plicity of  a  teachable  spirit.  There  can  be  nothing 
to  palliate  the  sin  of  pride  and  self-consequence  in  the 
very  feebleness  that  encourages  humility  and  child- 
like dependence. 

Nor  can  you  ]jilead  as  a  palliation  that  you  have 
been  exasperated  and  proiwked  to  sin  against  Grod. 
In  all  the  providences  of  the  Lord  towards  3^ou  there 
has  been  a  strong  preponderance  of  mercies  over 
chastisement.  Every  morning  has  shed  upon  you  a 
fresh  baptism  of  sunlight,  and  given  you  new  air  to 
breathe,  and  new  supplies  of  food,  and  instruction, 
and  social  blessings.     The  gospel  has  every  day  sent 


280  SERiMON  XV. 

new  gleams  of  light  into  your  mind ;  or,  if  it  has  not 
clone  this,  at  least  some  of  its  great  principles  pre- 
viously learned  have  attained  to  a  resurrection  from 
"  the  burial-places  of  the  memory,"  and  in  bright 
garments,  and  with  angel  footsteps,  have  quietly 
moved  to  and  fro  through  all  the  chambers  of  your 
soul,  now  hushing  unruly  passions,  and  now  charging 
upon  the  busy  attention  that  she  keep  swept  and 
garnished  every  apartment  for  the  reception  of  a 
heavenly  visitor,  the  entertainment  of  the  Holy 
Spirit. 

And  can  you  with  any  better  grace  plead  a  pallia- 
tion from  the  temj^tations  that  beset  youf  To  obtain 
just  views  on  this  point,  you  must  set  over  against 
each  other  the  temptations  to  sin  and  the  induce- 
ments to  holiness.  Contrast,  then,  for  a  moment,  the 
motives  to  right  and  wrong  by  which  men  are  respec- 
tively influenced.  On  the  side  of  sin,  the  world  has 
set  up  its  claims.  On  the  side  of  holiness,  God  has  ex- 
ercised his  authority  and  uttered  his  commands.  The 
world  proifers  its  wealth,  and  pleasures,  and  honors. 
These  objects  are  made  to  glow  before  the  minds  of 
men  with  a  wonderful  charm.  But  they  are  known 
to  be  transient,  and  to  fail  of  meeting  human  expec- 
tations. On  the  other  hand,  God  proffers  peace  of 
conscience,  the  enjoyment  of  benevolent  aflections, 
and  treasures  laid  up  in  heaven.  The  world  offers 
you  the  applause  of  a  crowd  of  stupid  admirers,  if 
you  will  walk  in  the  ways  of  sin.  God,  to  draw  you 
into  the  paths  of  holiness,  proposes  to  invest  you  with 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  281 

bright  garments,  to  put  an  immortal  crown  upon  your 
head,  and  to  lead  you  on  past  the  ranks  of  angels  and 
shining  seraphs,  and  to  cause  you  to  sit  down  with 
Christ  upon  his  throne.  The  world  may  attempt  to 
deter  you  from  the  way  of  holiness,  by  pointing  the 
finger  of  scorn  at  you,  and  threatening  you  with  its 
curse.  But  its  scorn  is  impotent,  its  curse  is  mo- 
mentary. It  can  only  kill  the  body,  and  after  that  it 
hath  no  more  that  it  can  do.  But  God,  to  deter  you 
from  sin,  brings  far  higher  motives.  He  threatens 
to  abandon  you  forever  to  raging  passions,  and  keen 
remorse,  and  black  despair,  and  all  the  eternal  agonies 
of  tK^  second  death.  The  motives  to  sin  are  tran- 
sient, feeble,  human.  The  motives  to  holiness  are 
eternal,  omnipotent,  divine.  They  are  high  as  God's 
authority,  pure  as  his  character,  charming  as  his  voice 
of  mercy,  and  terrible  as  his  eternal  curse.  The 
motives  to  holiness  vastly  preponderate  over  the  mo- 
tives which  exist  in  favor  of  sin. 

A  comparison  of  agencies  on  either  side,  also,  shows 
a  similar  result.  The  agency  of  wicked  men,  though 
they  be  superior  in  point  of  numbers,  is  inferior  in 
power.  Sin  and  violence  are  often  victorious  in  the 
onset ;  but  holy  influences  are  permanent,  and  gain 
a  vast  ultimate  advantage.  Pharaoh's  influence  was 
once  great,  kingly,  and  formidable;  while  that  of 
Moses  seemed  weak  and  contemptible.  But  the  in- 
fluence of  Pharaoh  in  favor  of  sin  has  been  dead  for 
thousands  of  years ;  or,  rather,  it  has  reacted  against 
sin  itself,  and  Pharaoh's  whole  character  and  history 

24* 


282  SERMON  XV. 

have  stood  forth  as  a  fiery  beacon  to  warn  men  to 
beware  of  mad  and  imj^ious  ambition.  But  the  in- 
fluence of  Moses  has  been  increasing  from  that  day 
to  this.  When  he  laid  his  body  down  in  the  grave, 
the  influence  of  his  character,  example,  history,  and 
laws,  was  in  its  youth's  first  freshness.  Now,  it  has 
arisen  to  a  vigorous  and  hardy  manhood.  It  is  seen 
to-day  moulding  the  legislation  of  all  Christian  states. 
It  gives  character  to  the  domestic  arrangements  of 
millions  of  families.  It  sits  on  the  benches  of  justice. 
It  pleads  for  international  rights  in  the  cabinets  of 
princes.  Herod,  and  Julian,  and  Nero,  have  lost 
their  influence  in  favor  of  sin.  Their  very  iTames 
make  transgressors  shudder  and  turn  back  from  the 
way  of  death.  But  Paul  and  Augustin  still  exert 
a  powerful  and  wide-spread  influence.  Paine,  and 
Hume,  and  Voltaire,  are  suff'ering  a  constant  diminu- 
tion of  influence  in  favor  of  sin;  but  Newton,  and 
Locke,  and  Butler,  and  Baxter,  and  Edwards,  have  a 
fresh  and  youthful  influence  this  very  hour.  The 
ao;encies  of  men  in  favor  of  holiness  are  of  a  higher 
and  more  permanent  character  than  those  in  favor  of 
sin.  "  The  righteous  are  had  in  everlasting  remem- 
brance, but  the  name  of  the  wicked  shall  rot." 

Then,  as  to  spiritual  agencies  of  a  higher  nature, 
the  preponderance  is  vast  on  the  side  of  holiness. 
Admit  that  Satan  is  a  mighty  being,  and  that  men 
have  so  easily  and  to  such  an  extent  yielded  to  his 
influence,  as  to  procure  for  him  the  title  of  the  God 
of  this  world,  yet  the  agencies  that  act  against  him 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  283 

are  incomparably  more  powerful  than  his  own.     For 
there  are  also  angels  of  light,  strong  and  mightj  ;  and 
besides,   God  the   Holy  Spirit   is  acting  constantly 
against  him,  aided  by  a  perfect  knowledge  of  all  men, 
and  of  the  devices  of  the  Tempter  ;  and  with  the  ad- 
vantages of  unbounded  resources  and  a  perfect  ubi- 
quity.    Plainly,  then,  there  is  a  vast  preponderance 
of  influence  against  sin  compared  with  the  influence 
in  its  favor.     Should  you  attempt,  therefore,  to  plead 
a  palliation  in  mitigation  of  punishment,  all  this  supe- 
rior influence  in  favor  of  holiness  would  rise  up  be- 
fore you  to  prevent  it.     The  superior  motives  to  holi- 
ness  would   again  recur,   and   fill  you  with    shame. 
The  higher,  and  more  permanent,  and  ever  accumu- 
lating influence  of  good  men,  and  the  remembered 
power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  would  cause  to  pass  before 
you  the  beautiful  robe  and  the  heavenly  eternal  feast 
which  had  been  so  often  and  so  winningly  presented, 
and  your  utterance  would  be  choked  before  you  could 
speak  a  single  word  in  palliation  of  your  sins.     Ag- 
gravation  alone  would  be  the  thought  which  would  fill 
your  mind.     That  you  would  suppress,  except  an  in- 
articulate  wail  should   indicate  its   presence.     You 
would  be  speechless. 

But  if  you  can  plead  nothing  in  you  own  favor  on 
the  ground  of  law — if  you  can  neither  plead  not 
guilty,  nor  sustain  a  plea  of  justification,  nor  say  one 
word  in  palliation  of  your  off'ences,  it  is  equally  clear 
that  you  can  utter  no  com'plaint  of  a  ivant  of  means 
to  frepare  for  that  day  of  scrutiny  and  trial.     Could 


284  SERMON  XV. 

you  complain  of  anything  like  scantiness  in  the  pro- 
visions of  Divine  grace  ?  As  well  might  you  complain 
of  a  want  of  means  for  physical  cleansing,  when  the 
broad  Pacific  ocean  laves  your  very  feet ;  or  lament 
your  want  of  natural  light,  when  the  meridian  sun 
beams  down  upon  you  from  a  cloudless  sky.  None 
have  ever  applied  to  that  Saviour  for  cleansing  or  in- 
struction, and  been  sent  away  unsatisfied.  You  have 
known  this.  You  have  been  taught  it  in  his  word. 
You  have  read  it  in  the  history  of  his  providence. 
The  wedding  garment  was  prepared  for  you ;  i/ou 
declined  to  put  it  on.  When  God  shall  say:  "How 
camest  thou  in  hither,  not  having  on  a  wedding 
garment?"  you  Avill  be  speechless. 

And  can  you  complain  that  you  enjoyed  7io  good 
opportunity  for  obtaining  the  benefits  of  these  pro- 
visions ?  What  were  all  those  sacred  sabbaths  which 
you  have  been  permitted  to  spend  among  a  Chris- 
tian people?  If  you  are  now  twenty-one  years 
of.  age,  you  have  had  three  entire  years  of  sabbaths. 
If  you  are  forty-two  years  old,  you  have  had  six.  If 
you  are  fifty-six  years  of  age,  you  have  enjoyed 
eigJit  such  years:  a  time  sufficient  to  acquire  a  public 
education,  and  qualify  yourself  for  one  of  the  learned 
professions.  During  all  these  years  of  sabbaths  your 
time  has  been  secured  to  you  for  this  express  object, 
both  by  the  habits  of  the  Christian  community,  and 
the  authority  of  God.  This  amount  of  time  has  been 
much  more  valuable  for  such  a  purpose,  too,  on  ac- 
count of  its  being  distributed  along  one  day  in  seven, 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  285 

leaving  in  the  intervals  seasons  for  reflection,  and 
for  the  practical  application  to  the  ordinary  duties 
of  life  of  the  lessons  of  the  Sabbath.  Nor  have  you 
been  barely  permitted  to  enjoy  these  opportunities. 
The  Divine  authority  has  solemnly  forbidden  you  to 
use  these  years  of  sabbaths  for  any  other  purpose 
than  the  making  a  sure  preparation  for  meeting  your 
God  in  judgment.  But  besides  this,  it  ought  to  be 
said  that  all  your  years  and  days  have  been  one  con- 
tinuous good  opportunity  for  making  your  peace  with 
God.  The  command  to  labor  and  the  necessities  of 
toil  tend  to  promote  your  spiritual  good.  This  is 
manifest  from  the  fact  that  the  gospel  does  in  reality 
act  more  successfully  upon  the  industrious  classes 
than  it  does  upon  persons  of  great  leisure.  The  com- 
mand to  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his 
righteousness  covers  every  day  and  every  hour  of 
your  life.  If  you  attempt  to  say,  I  have  had  no  good 
opportunities,  one  glance  at  the  past  will  render  you 
speechless. 

And  can  you  with  any  better  grace  pretend  that 
you  have  had  no  generous  and  earnest  offers  of  salva- 
tion? How  many  faithful  sermons  have  made  their 
appeals  to  your  understanding,  your  conscience,  and 
your  heart?  How  many  admonitions  have  you  been 
favored  with  from  Christian  parents  or  Christian 
friends?  How  many  times  has  the  word  of  God,  in 
all  the  authority  of  its  solemn  commands  and  in  all 
the  tenderness  of  a  Saviour's  invitations,  fallen  upon 
your   ears?     How  often   have   solemn,  providential 


286  SERMON  XV. 

Avarnings  roused  your  slumbering  conscience,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  convinced  you  of  sin  ?  Will  you  say  that 
you  have  cause  for  complaint  because  you  had  no 
generous  and  earnest  offer  of  salvation?  No,  you 
will  be  speechless. 

But  can  you  say  that  God  was  not  forbearing  ^ 
You  could  certainly  have  no  just  ground  of  com- 
plaint if  the  provisions  of  salvation  had  never  been 
made.  The  law  is  righteous  that  condemns  you. 
But  if  provisions  the  most  ample  have  been  made, 
and  numerous  and  golden  opportunities  have  been 
granted  for  profiting  by  them,  and  their  benefits  have 
been  generously  offered,  and  earnestly  urged  but  for 
once,  and  you  have  declined  them  deliberately,  you 
must  most  unquestionably  be  speechless.  But,  oh, 
when  you  reflect  on  the  forbearance  of  God,  how 
must  it  overwhelm  you?  Thousands  younger  than 
yourself  have  been  cut  down  in  their  sins.  You  have 
been  spared.  When  your  neglect  of  your  Saviour 
and  your  deliberate  refusing  of  his  offers  of  mercy 
have  demanded  instant  judgment,  the  sword  has  been 
held  back,  and  you  have  been  spared.  When  pesti- 
lence has  passed  over  the  community,  and,  like  the 
destroying  angel  in  Egypt,  scarcely  left  a  house  in 
which  there  was  not  one  dead,  you  have  been  pre- 
served, though  you  performed  no  act  of  faith  like  the 
people  of  God,  sprinkling  the  blood  of  their  passover 
upon  the  lintel  of  their  doors.  When  disease  has 
brought  you  down  to  the  gates  of  the  grave,  you 
have  been  spared.     When  a  hundred  offers  of  salva- 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  287 

tlon  have  been  made,  and  every  one  of  them  coldly 
slighted,  God  has  still  waited  to  be  gracious :  and 
your  insulted  Saviour  has  pleaded,  as  in  the  parable 
of  the  barren  fig-tree.  Spare  it  this  year  also.  If, 
after  all  this,  you  shall  be  found  without  the  wedding 
garment,  you  can  never  say  that  no  forbearance  was 
manifested  towards  you.     You  will  be  speechless. 

But,  if  you  cannot  claim  deliverance  in  any  way 
on  the  ground  of  law,  nor  complain  of  any  want  of 
means  to  prepare  for  the  last  trial,  neither  can  you 
cry  for  mercy  at  that  late  period.  Then  there  is  no 
encouragement  for  hope.  No  declaration  of  ''he 
that  calleth  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved." 
Probation  is  closed.  The  silver  trumpet  of  the  gos- 
pel has  ceased  to  sound.  Every  mouth  is  stopped, 
and  all  the  world  is  guilty  before  God. 

And  yet,  here  is  an  unconverted  sinner,  one  of  a 
mixed  multitude  of  bad  and  good  which  the  servants 
have  gathered.  The  king  has  not  yet  come  in  to 
see  the  guests ;  and  far  from  being  speechless,  he  is 
uttering  himself  with  the  greatest  readiness  and  self- 
possession.  And  how  is  he  employing  his  lips  dur- 
ing the  brief  period  allotted  him?  Is  it  in  crying  for 
help  from  above,  and  in  asking  of  those  that  have 
obtained  such  a  blessing,  hoAV  he  shall  become  clothed 
with  the  wedding  garment?  0,  no!  he  is  endeavor- 
ing to  justify  himself.  He  is  making  complaints. 
He  is  sustaining  himself  in  present  neglect  by  pro- 
mising a  gradual  improvement  and  a  cordial  recep- 
tion of  the  wedding  garment  at  a  future  day.     He  is 


288  SERMON  XV. 

acting  tlie  part  of  an  impudent  and  indolent  servant, 
•who  boasts  before  strangers  of  his  foresight,  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  will  be  prepared  to  meet  his 
Master,  and  justify  himself,  when  he  knows  that  the 
first  glance  of  that  Master's  eye  will  fill  him  with 
confusion,  and  palsy  his  tongue  for  very  shame. 
How  easily,  and  fluently,  and  even  plausibly  he  can 
defend  himself  against  all  our  reasoning  and  remon- 
strances. His  tongue  is  as  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer. 
But  hark!  it  is  announced  that  the  king  has  come  in 
to  see  the  guests.  The  voice  of  the  poor,  self- 
deluded  sinner  falters.  His  parched  tongue  cleaves 
to  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  The  king  fixes  his  eye 
upon  him:  ^'Friend,  how  camest  thou  in  hither,  not 
having  on  a  wedding  garment?"  He  is  speechless. 
The  command  is  given:  "Bind  him  hand  and  foot, 
and  cast  him  into  outer  darkness ;  there  shall  be 
weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth."  Must,  then,  every 
tie  be  broken  that  bound  him  to  that  favored  com- 
munity? May  he  not  cling  to  a  brother  or  sister, 
the  loved  companions  of  childhood?  May  he  not 
hold  by  the  hand  a  father  or  mother,  and  for  their 
sakes  be  led  along  to  the  feast?  May  he  not  then 
plead  the  prayers  of  a  sainted  wife,  and  cling  to  her 
loved  form,  and  walk  close  by  her  side  ?  No — the 
command  is  imperative:  ''Bind  him  hand  and  foot." 
But  may  he  not  abide  in  their  presence,  though  in 
chains?  No:  "Cast  him  out."  And  shall  not  he, 
the  wretched  sufferer,  at  least  have  the  poor  conso- 
lation of  uttering  his  complaints?     No,  there  shall 


THE  SPEECHLESS  GUEST.  289 

be  no  complaining  there;  no,  nothing  but  "wailing 
and  gnashing  of  teeth."  My  unconverted  friend, 
may  not  this  be  your  case  ?  Speak,  then,  while  you 
can,  in  the  only  way  which  wisdom  or  propriety  can 
dictate.  Ask  of  your  pastors  and  spiritual  guides, 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  Go  to  your  Christian 
friends,  especially  to  those  in  whom  you  confide,  and 
beg  of  them  to  pray  for  you.  Tell  them  that  you 
have  not  asked  it  as  a  mere  form,  but  that  your  eter- 
nal interests  are  at  stake,  and  that  you  desire  to 
secure  the  fervent  and  efiectual  prayers  of  the  righte- 
ous on  your  behalf.  Go  to  the  throne  of  the  heavenly 
grace,  and  implore  the  mercy  of  your  God.  Adopt 
the  resolution  so  well  expressed  by  the  poet : — 

"  I'll  go  to  Jesus,  though  my  sin 
Hath  like  a  mountain  rose  ; 
I  know  his  courts,  I'll  enter  in, 
Whatever  may  oppose. 

"  Prostrate  I'll  lie  before  his  throne, 
And  there  my  guilt  confess ; 
I'll  tell  him,  I'm  a  wretch  undone 
Without  his  sovereign  grace." 

Yes,  go,  while  you  are  not  compelled  to  be  speech- 
less; and  the  Lord  be  with  thy  spirit. 

25 


SERMON  XYI. 

REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED. 

If  there  be  first  a  willing  mind,  it  is  accepted  accorditJg 
TO  that  a  man  hatii,  and  not  according  to  that  he  hath  not. 
^2  Cor.  viii.  12. 

There  is  a  beautifully  exact  correspondence  be- 
tween our  duties  and  our  privileges.  If  God  demand 
of  us  a  particular  service,  it  will  be  found  that  tlie 
requirement  has  been  always  py^eceded  by  a  corre- 
sponding he7iefit.  Hence,  every  good  act  performed 
by  man  is  induced  by  prevenient  grace,  inclining  him 
thereto  not  only,  but  it  is,  also,  a  result  of  a  pre- 
venient, providential  bestowment,  rendering  the  duty 
performed  a  mere  requital,  a  paying  back  to  God 
w4iat  was  originally  rnd  really  his  own. 

In  our  text,  the  apostle  refers  to  one  specific  gift 
of  God,  and  to  the  obligation  devolving  on  us  from 
its  possession.  The  gift  is  that  of  property,  and  the 
corresponding  duty  is  alms- giving.  He  had  just  be- 
fore called  their  attention  to  the  example  of  Christ, 
and  intimated  that  their  Saviour  had  given  up  his 
possessions  for  the  good  of  others,  and  that  the  large- 
ness of  his   sacrifice,  in  this  respect,  corresponded 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  291 

with  the  magnitude  of  his  estate.  ''  For  ye  know," 
says  he,  ''  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that 
though  he  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes  he  became 
poor,  that  ye  through  his  poverty  might  be  rich." 
He  then  adverts  to  the  desire  which  the  Corinthian 
Christians  had  manifested  a  year  before  to  contribute 
to  the  relief  of  the  poor,  and  calls  upon  them  to  give 
expression  to  that  desire  now,  in  action.  ''  Now, 
therefore,"  says  he,  *' perform  the  doing  of  it;  that, 
as  there  was  a  readiness  to  will,  so  there  may  be  a 
performance  also  out  of  that  which  ye  have."  Im- 
mediately upon  this,  he  takes  occasion  to  make  this 
general  and  broad  statement ;  a  statement  which  will 
apply  to  other  gifts  and  corresponding  obligations,  as 
well  as  to  the  possession  of  property  and  the  duty  of 
alms-giving.  "  For  if  there  be  first  a  willing  mind, 
it  is  accepted  according  to  that  a  man  hath,  and  not 
according  to  that  he  hath  not."  With  this  explica- 
tion of  the  text,  I  am  prepared  to  state  my  object. 
It  is  to  unfold  and  apply  the  truth  contained  in  the 
following 

PROPOSITION. 
God   claims   from   men    nothing    but   a   proper 
requital   for   gifts  which  he   has   first   be- 
stowed upon  them. 

I  do  not  mean  to  maintain  that  no  other  motives 
are  to  be  urged  upon  us  but  such  as  are  drawn  imme- 
diately from  the  Divine  beneficence.  But  I  do  not 
intend  to  show  you  that  every  claim,  which  God  has 


292  SERMON  XVI. 

preferred,  has  come  to  you  as  the  embassy  of  a  noble 
prince,  preceded  by  a  royal  present.  These  gifts  in- 
timate both  the  kind  and  the  amount  of  the  requital 
■which  ought  to  be  rendered  back,  and  often  their 
silent  influence  is  the  only  specific  call  that  is  made 
for  the  corresponding  obligation.  The  refreshment 
which  they  bring  insinuates  the  obligation  to  make  a 
return;  and  the  elastic  joy  which  they  inspire  inti- 
mates the  duty  of  grateful  praise. 

A  few  select  instances  will  serve  to  set  the  fact 
which  we  have  asserted  in  a  perspicuous  light,  and 
prepare  the  way  for  exhibiting  some  of  the  beneficent 
influences  of  such  a  palpable  correspondence  between 
the  gifts  of  God  and  the  duties  of  men. 

Your  corporeal  frame  is  a  wonderful  specimen  of 
the  Divine  skill.  It  is  adapted  alike  to  minister  to 
your  good  and  to  requite  its  Maker  with  a  service 
corresponding  to  its  nature.  Creative  power,  and  a 
kind  and  w^atchful  providence,  have  compacted  and 
trained  that  frame,  and  imparted  to  it  powers  of  great 
vigor  and  elasticity.  For,  though  your  body  may  be 
feeble  compared  with  that  of  some  of  the  species,  yet 
it  is  capable  of  such  varied  and  useful  action,  and,  when 
badly  directed,  possesses  such  a  power  for  evil,  that 
it  may  well  be  said  of  it  that  it  is  "  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made."  Now,  we  all  say  of  these  powers 
that  they  evince  an  intention  of  providing  for  the 
preservation  and  protection  of  this  tent  of  the  soul, 
and  also  for  the  happiness  of  the  interior  inhabitant. 

But,  while  it  is  adapted  to  this  end,  it  is  equally 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  293 

well  adapted  to  a  corresponding  service  of  God.  If 
you  employ  those  limbs  in  going  about  doing  good ; 
if  your  hands  are  occupied  in  relieving  the  neces- 
sitous, or  in  active  toil  to  acquire  the  means  of  serv- 
ing God;  and  if  your  tongue  be  occupied  with  in- 
structing the  ignorant,  pleading  the  cause  of  right- 
eousness, and  praising  its  Maker,  you  are  only 
making  a  proper  requital.  You  are  but  rendering 
back  to  God  what  was  his  by  the  highest  of  all  rights, 
the  right  of  creation.  You  may,  then,  in  application 
to  these  returns,  with  equal  propriety  employ  the  lan- 
guage of  David  to  God,  when  he  spoke  of  the  rich 
materials  that  he  had  prepared  for  the  temple  :  ^'  All 
things  come  of  thee,  and  of  thine  own  have  we  given 
thee." 

God  has  also  given  you  an  immortal  mind.  It  is 
made  capable  of  boundless  and  unending  enjoyment. 
It  is  equally  capable  of  rendering  back  to  its  Creator 
a  glad  requital,  corresponding  exactly  to  the  nature 
of  the  gift.  There  are  spread  before  it  a  vast  variety 
of  objects.  It  may  derive  benefit  from  them  all,  and 
yet  bring  back  all  its  powers  invigorated  by  action, 
and  enriched  by  experience,  and  lay  them  down  as 
a  thankful  requital  on  the  altar  of  the  Lord.  It 
may  enjoy  the  things  of  sense  without  becoming  the 
drudge  of  sensual  desires.  It  may  rise  and  luxuriate 
amid  the  higher  beauties  of  the  physical  creation, 
and  only  improve  its  own  nature,  and  acquire  higher 
and  purer  views  of  the  Maker  of  all  things.  It  may 
come  to  God  directly  with  all  its  powers  employed  in 

25* 


294  SERMON  XVI. 

adoration,  and  love,  and  praise.  And  suet  a  course 
of  action  is  only  a  proper  requital  for  the  gifts  which 
God  has  first  bestowed. 

It  is  equally  manifest,  also,  that  the  measure  of 
this  return  is  to  be  proportioned  exactly  to  the  large- 
ness of  the  gifts.  There  will  be  no  disproportion  in 
the  service,  if  you  make  all  your  corporeal  powers  as 
a  band  of  faithful  laborers ;  and  if  your  understand- 
ing be  employed  in  making  out  their  work,  and  your 
will  in  leading  them  to  industrious  activity.  Nor 
will  you  render  to  God  aught  besides  that  which  was 
previously  his  own,  if  you  bring  all  your  intellectual 
and  moral  powers  to  stand  ever  ready,  like  the  angels 
by  his  throne,  to  do  Jiis  bidding. 

If  you  are  intrusted  with  property,  whether  derived 
from  your  parents,  or  your  own  industry,  it  is  a  gift 
of  the  Divine  providence.  He  intended  that  you 
should  receive  blessings  by  its  means,  but  it  is  his 
gift,  and  all  that  he  requires  of  you  in  alms  for  the 
poor,  in  donations  for  sending  the  gospel  to  the  hea- 
then, and  in  building  up  the  institutions  of  the 
church,  is  really  nothing  but  a  requital  for  his  mer- 
cies, a  paying  him  back  that  which  is  his  own.  Here 
also,  as  in  the  other  cases,  not  only  the  kind  but  the 
measure  of  the  obligation  is  determined  by  the  bounty 
of  God  to  you.  He  has  made  you  his  steward.  What- 
ever you  possess  is  a  charity  fund,  intrusted  to  you 
by  a  liberal  benefactor.  You  are  to  make  such 
appropriations  to  your  own  immediate  use,  as  you 
believe,  after  conscientious  and  scrupulous  inquiry, 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  205 

"will  further  the  benevolent  intention  of  the  donor. 
To  do  this,  is  only  to  give  to  God  that  "which  is  his 
own,  to  make  a  fair  requital  for  his  benefits. 

Has  he  among  the  bounties  of  his  Providence  given 
you  children?  You  cannot  do  less,  if  you  would  make 
a  proper  acknowledgment  of  the  gift,  than  to  conse- 
crate those  children  to  God ;  train  them  for  his  ser- 
vice, and  seek  to  impart  to  their  souls  such  a  clear 
and  brilliant  polish,  as  shall  make  them  reflect  the  . 
image  of  their  Maker.  Such  a  requital  is  demanded 
by  the  very  nature  of  the  gift. 

Has  God  given  you  learning,  disciplined  your  men- 
tal powers,  and  enriched  you  with  "  the  gems  of  wis- 
dom and  the  pearls  of  knowledge  ?"  You  cannot  do 
less  than  to  use  these  advantages  for  communicating 
to  others  the  same  treasures.  It  is  only  a  fair  and 
proper  requital,  if  you  will  use  all  those  acquirements 
in  diffusing  instruction,  and  especially  in  making 
known  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ. 

All  our  obligations  to  send  the  gospel  to  the  desti- 
tute, meet  a  similar  and  delightful  correspondence 
in  the  gifts  which  we  enjoy.  God  has  imparted  to  us, 
without  money  and  without  price,  the  amplest  provi- 
sions for  our  spiritual  wants.  He  has  given  us  the 
infinite  sacrifice  of  Christ,  to  buy  our  pardon  and  our 
redemption  from  hell.  He  has  given  us  his  holy  word, 
and  a  living  ministry,  and  a  visible  church.  Without 
these  we  had  been  like  the  heathen,  that  have  not 
heard  of  Christ.  He  has  also  given  us  a  holy  influence 
from  above  to  restrain,  and  enlighten,  and  sanctify  us. 


296  SERMON  XVI. 

In  all  of  these  respects,  we  are  asked  only  to  make 
a  suitable  requital  to  give  back  to  God  that  "which  is 
his  own.  In  putting  into  our  hands  the  provisions  of 
his  grace,  God  has  treated  us  as  a  man  would  a  large 
company  for  whom  he  had  made  a  most  hospitable 
and  sumptuous  banquet.  He  has  spread  his  table. 
It  extends  around  the  globe.  The  entire  human 
family  are  seated  closely  on  either  side  throughout 
its  whole  length.  He  has  put  into  our  hands  the 
cup  of  salvation,  and  bidden  us  to  drink  freely, 
and  to  pass  it  on  with  the  charge,  always  accom- 
panying its  progress,  to  pass  it  on  still.  If  we 
have  drunk  of  it,  can  we  do  less  than  to  become  par- 
ticipants of  the  benevolence  that  placed  it  in  our 
hands,  and  send  it  onwards  till  it  come  around  the 
circle  of  the  earth,  bearing  the  imprint  of  the  lips  of 
every  living  human  being  ?  Can  anything  less  than 
such  a  practical  appreciation  be  a  proper  requital  for 
God's  benevolence  to  us? 

Thus,  though  other  reasons  may  be  given  for  the 
performance  of  our  duties,  every  act  of  service  which 
we  can  possibly  render  to  God  may  be  regarded 
as  nothing  else  than  a  grateful  response  for  his  gifts 
to  us — a  rendering  back  to  him  that  which  was  his 
own. 

One  of  the  good  influences  of  that  arrangement  by 
which  God's  gifts  involve  our  obligations,  is  observ- 
able in  the  happy  distribution  which  it  makes  of 
moral  duties  among  men  in  different  conditions. 

The  providence  of  God  has  distributed  blessings 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  297 

with  great  munificence  not  only,  but  also  with  aston- 
ishing variety. 

The  human  frame  possesses  in  different  individuals 
the  greatest  inequalities  of  vigor  and  alertness,  and 
the  most  wonderful  differences  of  facility  for  different 
occupations.  These  diverse  qualities  bring  along 
with  them  corresponding  diversities  of  obligation. 

So  the  minds  of  men  are  greatly  varied  both  by 
their  original  structure  and  by  the  influences  to  which 
they  have  been  subjected  during  the  successive  stages 
of  their  development. 

Then  again,  worldly  possessions  are  distributed 
with  the  greatest  possible  inequality  and  variety 
which  can  exist  between  the  opulence  of  the  wealth- 
iest princes  and  the  squalid  poverty  of  the  most  de- 
graded beggar. 

A  similar  variety  is  dispensed  in  leai'ning,  and 
personal  influence,  and  gospel  privileges. 

These  varieties  impart  an  equally  various  distribu- 
tion of  duties.  They  effectually  preclude  men  from 
rushing  in  too  great  numbers  into  any  particular 
spheres  of  usefulness  to  the  neglect  of  others.  If 
men  become  enamored  with  the  philanthropy  of 
Howard,  and  are  fired  with  zeal  to  "  go  and  do  like- 
wise," and  relieve  thousands  of  suffering  prisoners 
by  their  benefactions  and  visits  of  mercy,  they  find 
that  God  has  not  given  them  Howard's  estate.  Then, 
having  imbibed  his  spirit,  they  impart  according  to 
their  small  possessions ;  and  employ  their  hands, 
their  minds,  and  their  prayers  to  accomplish  in  other 


298  SERMON  XVI. 

ways  services  equally  important  to  the  cause  of  God, 
and  safer  to  their  humility.  So,  if  men  in  great 
numbers  burn  with  ardor  to  enter  the  sacred  office, 
on  witnessing  its  untold  power  for  good  in  some  re- 
markable instance,  they  become  convinced  that  God 
has  not  given  them  the  peculiar  capacities  that  fit 
men  for  such  a  work.  Thence  they  satisfy  them- 
selves by  defraying  the  expense  of  educating  a  suit- 
able candidate,  and  turn  their  own  minds  and  hands 
to  such  employments  as  will  be  a  proper  requital  for 
God's  peculiar  gifts  to  them.  And  thus  it  is,  that 
though  an  enthusiastic  rush  is  ever  and  anon  created 
for  some  great  department  of  duty,  as  if  all  useful- 
ness were  to  be  found  in  that  one  form  of  action,  the 
varied  distribution  of  the  Divine  bounties  always  indi- 
cates so  clearly  a  variety  of  corresponding  obligations 
that  extravagance  is  checked,  and  a  fair  proportion 
of  the  piety  of  the  church  is  distributed  in  all  the 
varied  occupations  of  Christian  usefulness. 

A  higher  and  more  manifest  advantage  of  this  ar- 
rangement is  observable  in  its  influence  on  our  sense 
of  obligation  to  God,  and  in  enhancing  the  power  of 
the  motives  to  perform  our  duty.  And  here  you  will 
allow  me  to  call  your  attention  to  several  particu- 
lars. 

I.  The  ineasure  of  your  duty  is  re7idered  palpably 
exact. 

You  are  not  asked  to  render  anything  which  you 
have  not  to  give.  God  docs  not  attempt  to  reap 
where  he  has  not  sown,  and  to  gather  where  he  has 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  299 

not  first  strewn.  You  would  feel  it  to  be  hard,  in- 
deed, if,  after  giving  jou  one  talent,  God  had  required 
from  you  ten,  and  the  improvement  of  ten.  But,  if 
he  has  given  you  one,  and  its  use,  he  requires  of  you 
nothing  beyond.  And,  certainly,  he  can  demand  no 
less  than  his  own.  If  it  would  be  absurd  and  unrea- 
sonable that  he  should  demand  more,  it  is  equally 
unjust  that  you  should  render  any  less.  If  what  you 
rendered  to  God  were  analogous  to  dealing  out  gifts 
of  charity  to  one  who  has  done  nothing  for  you,  there 
would  be  no  precise  and  well-defined  measure  of  duty. 
You  might  impart  freely,  and  find  it  a  beneficial  cul- 
ture of  your  nature  to  exercise  a  large  generosity, 
but  you  would  have  an  ever-sliding  scale  of  duty, 
modified  by  your  own  moral  states.  But,  since  what 
you  render  to  God  as  service  is  of  the  nature  of  ren- 
dering back  a  trust,  there  can  be  nothing  variable 
in  your  obligations.  They  always  bear  an  exact 
proportion  to  what  you  have  received.  To  withhold 
any  part  is  as  plain  a  dereliction  of  duty,  as  palpa- 
ble rebellion,  as  it  is  to  withhold  the  whole.  Hence, 
our  Saviour  says  :  "Except  a  man  forsake  all  that  he 
hath,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple."  You  act  on  the 
same  principle.  Suppose  you  have  intrusted  a  busi- 
ness agent  with  a  million  of  dollars.  To  have  such 
an  agency,  with  its  lawful  and  stipulated  rewards,  is 
a  great  favor,  and  you  expect  a  faithful  return  of  the 
whole.  If  the  business  is  so  managed  that  the  com- 
paratively small  sum  of  one  thousand  dollars  is  stealth- 
ily laid  aside  for  your  agent's  own  use,  he  has  proved 


300  SERMON  XVI. 

himself  un^Y0^tlly  of  your  confidence.  And  tliougli 
that  one  thousand  dollars  is  a  trifling  proportion  to 
the  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  thousand  which  he 
has  rendered  back,  yet  he  is  proved  to  be  as  clearly 
a  dishonest  man  as  if  he  had  kept  the  whole.  He 
may  have  injured  you  in  a  less  degree,  but  he  is  just 
as  plainly  an  unfaithful  steward,  as  a  man  is  just  as 
clearly  a  thief  and  a  robber  who  has  purloined  a 
thousand  dollars  as  he  is  who  has  taken  a  million. 
It  was  on  this  ground  that  Ananias  and  Sapphira 
were  smitten  dead  upon  the  spot,  when  they  acknow- 
ledged the  entireness  of  God's  claim,  and  yet  deli- 
berately kept  back  part  of  the  price.  That  selling 
of  estates,  and  bringing  all,  and  laying  it  down  at 
the  apostles'  feet,  was  a  meeting  of  the  exigencies  of 
the  church,  and  a  clear  symbol  of  what  every  con- 
verted soul  virtually  does  when  he  becomes  a  Christ- 
ian. He  forsakes  all  that  he  hath  to  be  Christ's 
disciple.  To  offer  to  do  less  is  an  insult.  But 
you  will  ask:  "Is  there  not  imperfection  attending 
the  doings  of  the  best  Christians?"  Doubtless  there 
is ;  and  if  we  had  time,  in  this  place,  we  could 
show  you  in  what  it  consists.  It  is  enough  to  say 
now,  that  it  does  not  consist  in  making  false  entries 
in  your  account  with  your  Maker,  and  then  at- 
tempting like  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  by  lying  to  the 
Holy  Ghost,  to  gain  the  credit  of  making  an  honest 
requital  to  God,  while  a  portion  of  his  gifts  are  hid 
away  for  yourself.  The  measure  of  your  obligation 
is  always  exact. 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  801 

Those  frames  of  yours,  with  all  their  members  of 
joints  and  limbs  and  muscles,  are  to  be  employed  in 
doing  the  work  of  God.  Those  intellectual  powers 
are  to  dwell  in  your  body,  as  in  a  temple  of  the  Lord; 
yea,  they  are  to  consecrate  that  temple,  and,  clad  in 
pure  priestly  robes,  to  keep  ever  burning  within  it 
the  fires  of  love,  and  to  fill  it  with  the  incense  of 
praise.  That  worldly  estate  which  you  control  is 
God's  charity  fund,  put  into  your  hands  to  carry  along 
with  you,  as  you  pass  up  and  down  in  this  world  of 
tears  and  sighs,  and  widowhood  and  orphanage,  and 
crime  and  irreligion.  No  mortal  has  any  right  to 
dictate  to  you  the  details  of  its  expenditure,  but  God 
takes  account  of  it,  and  will  soon  call  to  you  in  a 
voice  of  irresistible  authority  and  power:  ^' Give  an 
account  of  thy  stewardship,  for  thou  mayst  be  no 
longer  steward."  That  child  is  committed  to  you  as 
a  sacred  trust;  God  has  said  to  you,  as  Pharaoh's 
daughter  said  to  the  mother  of  Moses,  "  Take  this 
child  away  and  nurse  it  for  me,  and  I  will  give  thee 
thy  wages."     Your  duty  is  plain. 

I.  It  is  God's  property  intrusted  to  you.  The 
proper  requital  is  an  offering  of  it  to  the  giver,  and  a 
training  it  wholly  for  his  service.  This  gospel,  which 
God  has  imparted  to  you  as  a  cup  of  salvation,  in- 
tended not  for  you  merely,  but  for  your  species,  is  to 
be  drunk  freely,  and  then  to  be  passed  on  till  every 
famishing  soul  has  had  it  pressed  to  his  lips  with  the 
kind  and  urgent  invitation,  "  Drink,  0  beloved."  In 
short,  you  have  only  to  consider  what  you  have,  to 
26 


802  SERMON  XVI. 

understand  what  you  owe  to  God.  You  owe  it  all. 
"  "What  hast  thou  that  thou  didst  not  receive?"  The 
measure  of  your  duty  is  exactly  as  the  gifts  of  God 
to  you. 

II.  That  w^hich  creates  an  obligation  in  this  re- 
spect, operates  also  in  various  ways  as  an  incitement 
to  discharge  that  obligation.     Duty  is  not  presented 
as  an  abstraction.     The  gifts  of  God  touch  our  senses 
and  affect  our  conscious  enjoyments,  and  so  awaken 
in  the  mind  a  sense  of  obligation  to  make  a  corre- 
sponding requital.     How  observable  is  this  when,  by 
the  providence   of  God,  men  are  saved  from    some 
great  and  imminent  danger.     Let  a  ship  at  sea  be 
driven  hard  upon  a  lea  shore.     Let  the  crew  strive 
in    vain,  for    a    dny    and    a    night,  to  distance    the 
frightful  breakers,  and  yet  draw  nearer   every  hour 
till  the    sturdy   mariners    grow  pale,   and   begin  to 
mingle  their   cries  with  more  timid   passengers  for 
mercy ;  and  now  let  the  wind  suddenly  haul  around 
and  the  joyful  vessel  dance  by  the  jutting  rocks,  and 
bound  off  freely  upon  the  deep  again.     In  such  a  case 
men's  hearts  are  softened,  and  even  the  wicked  are 
ready  to  join  in  the   thanksgiving   of  the   righteous, 
and  to  say  with  them  :   "  What  shall  I  render  to  the 
Lord,  for  all  his  benefits  ?"    This  strong  case  fairly  in- 
dicates the  tendency  of  those  gifts  which  precede  our 
duties  to  incite  us  to  their  performance.     If  men  are 
not  conscious  of  such  an  influence,  it  is  because  their 
awful  inurement  to  sin  has  induced  an  amazing  and 
callous  insensibility.     Our  lives  are  just  as  manifestly 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  303 

preserved  every  night,  and  every  day,  and  every  hour 
by  a  Divine  hand,  as  were  the  lives  of  that  ship's  com- 
pany. If  the  fact  were  not  lost  sight  of  in  the  soul's 
habit  of  living  without  God,  that  preservation  would 
every  day  produce  a  similar  incitement  to  render  a 
proper  requital  to  the  Lord. 

We  may  become  insensible  to  the  call  of  the  Divine 
mercy  by  directing  our  attention  to  other  objects,  and 
absorbing  our  minds  with  other  interests.  In  a  great 
city  we  learn  to  become  utterly  insensible  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  to  the  rattling  of  vehicles, 
and  the  cries  of  those  who  are  ottering  their  wares 
and  their  services  in  the  streets.  The  reason  is  be- 
cause we  have  purposely  turned  away  our  regards 
•from  these,  as  matters  of  little  practical  concernment 
to  us.  Just  so,  men  become  insensible  to  the  cry  of 
God's  claims — the  voices  of  his  thick-coming  gifts. 

The  sounds  are  uttered.  They  fall  upon  the  ear 
of  the  soul  in  gentle  and  persuasive  accents.  Pre- 
serving kindness  speaks  to  it  when  the  body  first 
wakes  from  its  nightly  repose,  and  says:  "  Now  begin 
anew.  Let  thy  feet  run  in  the  way  of  the  Lord's 
commandments.  Employ  those  hands  as  day  laborers 
for  God.  Let  those  lips  speak  out  for  righteousness, 
and  those  ears  be  open  to  the  calls  of  the  needy.  Bid 
that  understanding  prepare  its  roomy  apartments  to 
entertain  the  Son  of  God  and  his  train  to-day."  Pos- 
sessions of  property  suggest  the  power  of  doing  good. 
Learning  tells  the  mind  of  the  requital  which  it  owes 
to  God  for  so  valuable  a  trust;  and  the  means  of  grace 


304  BERMON  XVI. 

inspire  the  soul  with  an  irrepressible  desire  to  run  like 
the  woman  of  Samaria  at  Jacob's  well,  and  tell  of  the 
power  and  grace  of  Christ. 

A  great  incitement  to  those  duties,  also,  which  con- 
sist in  communicating  blessings  to  others,  is  found  in 
our  own  previous  enjoyment  of  them.  When  God 
requires  us  to  dispense  blessings  to  our  fellow-men  he 
permits  us  first  to  partake  of  them  ourselves.  If  we 
are  required  to  give  of  our  money  to  relieve  men's 
temporal  wants,  it  is  after  we  have  proved  its  power 
in  the  good  things,  the  necessaries,  and  the  comforts 
which  it  has  purchased  for  ourselves.  Are  we  asked 
to  impart  knowledge  ?  It  is  only  after  we  have  made 
our&elves  sensible  by  its  enjoyment  that  it  is  better 
than  gold  or  silver.  Do  we  give  spiritual  instruc- 
tion? We  first  learn  by  tasting  that  it  is  sweeter 
than  honey  and  the  honeycomb.  So  all  that  class 
of  gifts  which  we  are  required  to  impart  to  men  are 
first  given  us  to  enjoy,  so  that  we  may  feel  a  deep 
sense  of  their  great  value,  and  thence  be  incited  to 
do  good  and  to  communicate. 

But  the  great  incitement  derived  from  this  linking 
of  God's  gifts  and  our  duties  so  closely,  is  found  in 
the  universality  of  the  claims  made  upon  our  grati- 
tude. No  appeal  can  be  made  to  our  moral  nature 
that  is  so  effective  as  the  claim  for  gratitude.  But, 
since  our  duties  are  preceded  by  corresponding  Wess- 
ings,  this  claim  may  be  urged,  and  is  urged,  in  regard 
to  every  one  of  our  obligations  to  God.  Nothing  will 
more  readily  overwhelm  a  man  with  a  sense  of  un- 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  805 

worthiness  than  the  conviction  that  he  has  been  un- 
gratefuh  One  feels  himself  deeply  degraded  by  in- 
gratitude, and  no  crime  shocks  the  human  mind  like 
this.  It  is  this  that  gives  such  a  dark  hue,  in  our 
estimation,  to  filial  impiety.  When  you  see  a  son 
treating  with  disrespect  his  father,  or  wantonly 
wounding  the  womanly  sensibilities  of  his  mother, 
you  are  shocked;  you  feel  a  mortifying  shame  for 
your  species,  and  turn  away  from  the  sight  as  from 
something  monstrous.  Why  is  it  ?  It  is  because  such 
conduct  is  characterized  by  ingratitude.  That  father 
has  done  so  much  for  his  son  in  providing  for  his  child- 
hood— so  much  by  paternal  counsel  and  care;  and 
that  mother  suffered  for  her  child,  and  watched  and 
wept  by  his  sick  bed ;  and  now  that  all  this  should  be 
requited  with  bitter  words  and  an  unfilial  spirit,  strikes 
us  as  one  of  the  monstrous  forms  that  iniquity  puts 
on  only  in  its  rankest  growth.  And  yet  the  view 
which  we  have  taken  shows  all  sin  in  the  light  of  in- 
gratitude toward  God,  the  greatest  and  best  Benefac- 
tor. Hence,  in  the  most  pointed  rebukes  of  Scrip- 
ture, men  are  accused  of  ingratitude.  God  says  to 
the  apostate  Israelites:  "The  ox  knoweth  his  owner, 
and  the  ass  his  master's  crib;  but  Israel  doth  not 
know,  my  people  do  not  consider." 

Laying  a  foundation  for  gratitude  is  the  most 
powerful  of  all  means  for  winning  the  affections. 
How  well  judged  was  it  in  Jacob  to  send  a  present 
before  him  to  disarm  his  brother  from  an  old  and  long-, 
cherished  resentment !     Christ's  miracles  of  healing 

26* 


806  SERMON  XVI. 

had  an  amazing  power  in  eliciting  a  thankful  spirit, 
and  causing  the  common  people  to  hear  him  gladly. 
God  has  based  all  his  claims,  and  all  the  invitations 
of  his  gospel,  upon  this  principle.  He  assumes  that 
"  love  is  the  only  loan  for  love."  He  overcomes  evil 
with  good.  When  he  comes  to  meet  us  with  his 
claims  of  reconciliation  and  peace,  he  sends  his  pre- 
sents before,  as  Jacob  did  to  his  brother  Esau.  We 
may  be  stubborn,  and  persist  in  the  wrong,  but  he 
continues  to  send  them  still.  A  stream  of  blessings 
comes  pouring  in  upon  us.  Their  swelling  tide  bears 
us  up  to  his  very  mercy-seat.  Their  language  to  us 
is:  "  Be  thankful  unto  him,  and  bless  his  name." 
If  at  any  time  he  withdraws  his  gifts,  and  leaves  us 
to  bereavement  and  mourning,  it  is  to  make  us  sensi- 
ble of  our  ingratitude,  and  to  lead  us  to  such  a  new 
appreciation  of  his  goodness  that  it  may  have  an  in- 
creased influence  and  lead  us  to  repentance. 

My  impenitent  friends,  did  it  never  occur  to  you 
that  the  slight  manner  in  which  you  have  been  af- 
fected by  the  goodness  of  God  evinces  a  great  degree 
of  sinfulness  and  unworthiness  on  your  part?  What 
have  you  rendered  to  your  Maker  for  that  curious 
frame  ?  How  have  you  requited  his  preserving  care  ? 
W^hat  returns  have  you  made  when  he  has  raised  it 
from  the  gates  of  the  grave,  where  it  had  been  laid 
by  sickness  ?  How  have  you  kept  the  vows  which 
you  made  in  the  day  of  trouble?  What  have  you 
returned  to  God  for  those  mental  powers ;  for  £reat- 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  807 

ing  them,  for  preserving  them  from  idiocy  and  mad- 
ness ?  How  have  you  requited  him  for  your  education  ? 
Have  you  taken  all  these  precious  trusts,  and  made 
a  perverted  use  of  them  by  setting  an  example  of 
publicly  neglecting  the  ordinances  and  blessings  of 
his  grace?  What  use  have  you  made  of  your  pro- 
perty ?  Have  you  squandered  it  in  your  own  grati- 
fication, without  anything  like  a  daily  asking  of  wis- 
dom to  use  it  in  such  a  way  as  will  please  its  munifi- 
cent Donor,  who  intrusted  it  to  your  keeping?  In 
what  light  can  you  regard  such  conduct,  if  you  seri- 
ously reflect,  except  in  the  light  of  what  the  prophet 
significantly  terms  "  robbing  God?"  What  have  you 
done  with  the  knowledge,  and  especially  with  the 
knowledge  of  the  gospel,  with  which  you  have  been 
intrusted  ?  Have  you  taken  the  cup  of  salvation, 
called  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord,  paid  your  vows  in 
the  presence  of  his  people,  and  then  passed  the  rich 
blessing  to  others?  Or,  have  you  requited  him  evil 
for  good,  and  given  the  whole  weight  of  your  example 
against  any  such  use  of  his  mercies  ?  And  how  have 
you  repaid  the  love  and  sacrifice  of  Christ?  I  am 
afraid  you  have  requited  it  with  the  ingratitude  of 
your  neglect.  Can  it  be  ?  Are  you  ungrateful  for 
such  mercy  and  grace?  Still  he  waits.  He  seeks 
to  subdue  that  unthankful  soul,  and  to  win  it  by  kind- 
ness. Will  you  not  open  your  heart  to  the  sweet 
influences  of  his  mercy  ? 

I  fancy  I  see  you  contemplating  his  goodness,  and 


308  SERMON  XVI. 

in  view  of  the  spirit  of  these  instructions  you  wonder, 
like  some  of  old,  at  the  gracious  words  that  proceed 
out  of  his  mouth.  Yes,  my  impenitent  friend,  Christ 
has  come  to  you  once  more  with  his  hands  full  of 
blessings,  and  his  heart  full  of  love;  and  he  means 
you  shall  have  the  opportunity  of  now  giving  your 
heart  to  him,  or  of  again  ungratefully  slighting  his 
proffered  grace. 

*'  Behold  the  Saviour  at  the  door ! 
He  gently  knocks,  has  knocked  before ; 
Has  waited  long,  is  waiting  still ; 
You  treat  no  other  friend  so  ill. 

"  0  lovely  attitude  !     He  stands, 

With  melting  heart  and  outstretched  hands ; 
0  matchless  kindness  !     And  he  shows 
This  matchless  kindness  to  his  foes. 

"  Admit  him  ere  his  anger  burn, 
His  feet  departed,  ne'er  return  ; 
Admit  him,  or  the  hoar's  at  hand 
You'll  at  his  door  rejected  stand." 

Yes,  fellow-sinner,  the  time  is  coming  when  the 
remembrance  of  all  God's  mercies,  and  of  the  calls  of 
his  grace,  shall  rise  up  before  you,  and  ask:  "  Why 
did  you  requite  your  Maker  evil  for  good?  Why  did 
you  rob  God  of  his  just  claims  ?  Why  did  you  un- 
gratefully forget  your  Heavenly  Benefactor?"  Can 
you  make  a  satisfactory  answer  ?  Can  you  think  of 
meeting  such  upbraidings  without  being  overwhelmed 


REQUITAL  OF  GIFTS  DEMANDED.  809 

■with  sliame  and  remorse  ?  Let,  then,  the  invitations 
and  incitements  of  the  Divine  goodness  lead  you,  this 
hour,  to  the  decision, 

"  No  longer  to  abuse  his  love, 
And  weary  out  his  grace.'* 


SERMON     XYII. 

PRACTICAL   ATHEISM. 
''Without  god  in  the  world," — IJphesians  n.  12. 

The  meaning  of  this  text  will  be  readily  perceived, 
when  viewed  in  its  connection  with  the  context. 
The  apostle,  speaking  to  his  Ephesian  brethren, 
adverts  to  their  state  previously  to  their  conversion. 
"At  that  time,"  says  he,  "ye  were  without  Christ, 
being  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel,  and 
strangers  from  the  covenants  of  promise,  having  no 
hope,  and  without  God  in  the  world."  The  language 
is  descriptive  of  the  spiritual  condition  of  every  person 
who  has  not  been  truly  converted  to  Christ.  To  such 
I  address  myself. 

My  object  is  to  unfold  to  you  your  true  spiritual  state. 
May  God  the  Holy  Spirit  at  the  same  time  impart  to 
me  the  faithfulness  and  gentleness  of  Christ,  and 
open  your  hearts  to  attend  to  the  things  that  belong 
to  your  everlasting  peace.     The  text  implies : — 

I.  That  you  are  destitute  of  all  i^ropcr  affection 
towards  God. 

It  is  not  denied  that  you  possess  sentiments  of  re- 
spect for  the  Divine  character.     Many  of  you  know 


PRACTICAL  ATHEISM.  311 

too  much  of  the  majesty  and  glory  of  God  to  treat  him 
with  contempt.  Your  souls  have  often  trembled  in 
view  of  his  awful  justice.  Your  hearts  have  been 
touched  by  aifecting  instances  of  his  mercy,  and 
your  bosoms  have  been  filled  with  gladness  on  account 
of  his  abundant  gifts.  You  may  even  have  felt  those 
warm  sentiments  of  natural  gratitude  which  flow  un- 
bidden from  the  heart,  on  experiencing  an  unexpected 
deliverance  from  some  dreaded  calamity.  Yet  are 
you  destitute  of  all  proper  affection  towards  God. 

Supreme  love  to  God  is  required  of  you.  When 
the  Divine  character  and  claims  are  unfolded  in  your 
presence,  you  feel  that  nothing  less  can  reasonably 
be  demanded.  You  ought  to  exercise  and  cherish  a 
love  to  God  which  surpasses  all  other  attachments. 
Your  happiness  ought  to  be  mainly  derived  from  a 
conscious  exercise  of  a  warm  and  pure  affection 
towards  your  Heavenly  Father,  and  corresponding 
assurances  of  his  love  towards  you.  But  such  is  not 
your  experience.  You  may  flatter  yourself  that  you 
shall,  by  some  means,  obtain  the  Divine  favor  at  last; 
but  you  cannot  so  far  deceive  yourself  as  to  think 
that  your  heart  is  habitually  warmed  by  a  supreme 
love  to  God.  The  holy  Psalmist,  when  he  contem- 
plated the  Divine  character  exclaimed,  "Whom  have 
I  in  heaven  but  thee,  and  there  is  none  upon  the 
earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee.  My  heart  and 
my  flesh  cry  out  for  God.  When  shall  I  come  and 
appear  before  God."  You  make  no  such  exclama- 
tion ;  nor  do  you  feel  compelled  to  place  a  strong  re- 


312  SERMON  XVII. 

straint  upon  your  lips,  lest  the  warm  feelings  of  your 
heart  should  burst  from  them  in  language  similar  to 
this.     You  are  without  God  in  the  world. 

You  have  never  returned  to  God,  from  a  life  of 
wandering  and  of  sin.  You  are  acquainted  with  that 
touching  parable  of  the  prodigal,  by  which  our  Sav- 
iour so  beautifully  represents  to  us  the  process  of  a 
sinner's  return  to  God.  That  lost  one  thought  of  his 
guilt  and  shame;  thought  of  his  perishing  condition; 
his  rags,  his  hunger,  and  his  dark  prospects.  He 
thought  of  his  father's  house,  and  its  abundance.  He 
thought  of  his  father's  kindness.  He  said,  "I  will  arise, 
and  go  to  my  father."  He  went;  and  0  what  joy  was 
there  in  his  heart,  in  the  bosom  of  his  father,  and  in 
the  entire  household.  You  never  thus  lamented  your 
wanderings.  You  never  thus  returned  and  found  a 
joyful  reconciliation  with  your  Heavenly  Father.  Let 
me  put  to  you,  then,  my  impenitent  friend,  the  solemn 
question.  Now,  conscience,  do  thine  office,  and  give  a 
true  answer:  Have  you  ever  returned  from  the  ways 
of  sin,  and  said:  "  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father  ?" 
If  God  should  ask  you,  this  hour:  "If  I  be  a  Father, 
where  is  mine  honor  ?"  could  you  answer  him  ?  You 
know  you  could  not.  You  are  "without  God  in  the 
world.'' 

But  this  alienation  of  affection  is  reciprocal.  God 
is  as  thoroughly  destitute  of  love  to  you,  as  you  are 
of  love  to  him.  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  here,  on 
account  of  the  twofold  sense  of  the  term  love.  In 
the  sense  of  pity  and  benevolence,  "  God  so  loved" 
you,  "that  he  gave  his  well-beloved  son"  to  die  in 


PRACTICAL  ATHEISM.  313 

your  stead.  But  in  the  sense  of  complacent  affec- 
tion, God  is  as  far  from  loving  you  as  you  are  from 
loving  him.  In  the  1st  book  of  Sam.  ii.  30,  God  says: 
"  Them  that  honor  me,  I  will  honor,  and  they  that 
despise  me  shall  be  lightly  esteemed."  In  the  10th 
Psalm,  3d  verse,  a  particular  class  of  sinners  is  referred 
to  as  objects  of  the  Divine  abhorrence.  "The  wicked," 
it  is  said,  "boasteth  of  his  heart's  desire,  and  blesseth 
the  covetous,  whom  the  Lord  abhorreth."  Yet  this 
class,  the  covetous,  is  not  more  certainly  abhorred, 
than  every  unconverted  sinner.  Hence,  the  Psalmist 
says,  in  the  5th  Psalm,  5th  verse,  "  Thou  hatest  all 
workers  of  iniquity."  Thus  the  alienation  of  affection 
is  complete  in  both  parties.  You  are  alienated  from 
God,  and  God  is  alienated  from  you.  0  how  fearful 
for  a  worm  of  the  dust  to  stand  in  such  a  relation  to 
a  being  of  infinite  holiness  and  unbending  justice  ! 
Reconciliation  is  demanded.  You  are  "without  God 
in  the  world." 

II.  This  text  also  implies  that  you  are  totally  desti- 
tute of  communion  with  God  in  prayer. 

You  may  be  accustomed  to  offer  in  form  devotion 
to  God.  This  habit  may  be  of  great  advantage  in 
restraining  you  from  vice ;  it  may  lead  you  to  attend 
more  seriously  upon  the  means  of  grace.  But  you 
do  not  approach  God  in  filial  confidence.  You  do 
not  feel  in  your  devotions  that  you  are  unbosoming 
yourself  to  a  kind  and  sympathizing  friend.  You  do 
not  confess  with  sincere  and  heartfelt  grief  in  your 
retirement  your  manifold  offences.  You  do  not  wait 
27 


814  SERMON  XVII. 

upon  God  for  manifestations  of  his  love.  You  do  not 
plead  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  through  it  seek  earn- 
estly for  the  salvation  of  your  friends.  In  short,  you 
do  not  really  depend  upon  obtaining  your  richest 
blessings  by  asking  them  from  God.  Nor  does  God 
meet  you  with  tokens  of  his  love  in  the  place  of 
solemn  prayer.  Your  soul  is  not  there,  subdued  un- 
der a  sense  of  the  sweetness  of  Divine  mercy  and  the 
riches  of  Divine  grace.  God  does  not  there  lift 
upon  you  the  light  of  his  countenance.  You  find 
no  verification  of  your  Saviour's  promise:  ''If  any 
man  love  me,  my  Father  will  love  him,  and  we  will 
come  and  make  our  abode  with  him."  You  are  "with- 
out God  in  the  world." 

III.  It  is  also  implied  in  this  description  of  your 
spiritual  coiidition  that  you  do  not  eontemp)late  the 
character  of  God  as  an  object  of  paramount  interest. 

The  character  of  God  is  the  most  glorious  object 
of  contemplation  in  the  universe.  The  heavenly 
hosts  gaze  upon  it  with  unceasing  astonishment  and 
delight.  Enoch  kept  it  so  constantly  before  his  mind, 
that  he  is  said  to  have  walked  with  God.  The  Psalm- 
ist thought  upon  it  in  the  night  watches,  and  arose 
before  the  dawn  to  meditate  upon  God.  He  says,  he 
set  the  Lord  always  before  his  face.  The  prophet 
Malachi  characterizes  those  whom  God  will  make  up 
among  the  jewels  that  shall  bestud  his  crown,  by 
speaking  of  them  as  "  those  that  feared  the  Lord,  and 
that  thought  upon  his  name."  The  apostle  Paul 
speaks  of  the  Divine  character  as  being  the  object  of 


PRACTICAL  ATHEISM.  315 

the  Christian's  habitual  contemplation,  and  as  furnish- 
ing the  transforming  influence  which  imparts  to  men 
the  same  beautiful  and  holy  character.  In  2  Cor. 
iii.  18,  he  says :  "But  we  all  with  open  face  behold- 
ing as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed 
into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord."  But  the  unconverted  are 
characterized  as  those  that  "forget  God."  "God  is 
not  in  all  their  thoughts."  You  may,  indeed,  be 
visited  by  thoughts  of  God  obtruding  themselves  into 
your  mind  from  the  perusal  of  the  sacred  Scriptures, 
from  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  from  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Holy  Spirit;  but  you  do  not  apply 
your  mind  to  the  delightful  occupation  of  contem- 
plating the  Divine  character.  Scenery  can  please 
you.  Sun- gilded  mountains,  and  verdant  vales,  and 
resplendent  rivers  can  charm  you ;  but  their  glorious 
Creator  is  not  thought  upon  with  delight.  Wealth, 
and  splendor,  and  fashion  can  captivate  your  heart ; 
but  the  thoughts  of  God  are  unwelcome  intruders, 
and  soon  expelled  from  your  mind.  Learning  and 
genius  can  provoke  your  admiration  ;  but  the  infinite 
stores  of  Divine  knowledge  and  the  depths  of  Divine 
wisdom  can  not  withdraw  you  one  hour  in  a  day  to 
your  retirement  to  indulge  in  thoughts  of  God.  A 
creature's  love  secures  your  attention.  Your  earthly 
benefactors  and  friends,  your  children  and  your  pa- 
rents, your  husbands  and  your  wives  are  thought 
upon  when  absent  in  the  night  watches  ;  and  your  eyes 
are  held  awake  by  the  action  of  your  social  sympathies. 


316  SERMON  XVII. 

But  God,  the  Giver  of  all  your  mercies,  is  forgotten. 
Your  Creator  is  neglected.  If  by  his  Holy  Spirit 
he  presents  himself  to  you,  as  counselling  you  like  a 
father,  or  as  offering  up  his  beloved  Son  as  a  victim 
for  your  sins,  the  thoughts  are  quickly  repelled. 
You  are  "without  God  in  the  world."  You  are 
aware  of  the  fact ;  yet  you  cast  off  fear,  and  restrain 
prayer.  God  sees  you,  poor  guilty  wanderer.  To 
those  who  do  not  know  him,  he  will  say  at  his  awful 
bar:  "  I  know  you  not."  ''Consider  this,  all  ye  that 
forget  God,  lest  he  tear  you  in  pieces,  and  there  be 
none  to  deliver." 

IV.  You  have  renounced  Crod  as  your  ruler  and 
'portion. 

You  may  not  have  literally  used  the  language  of 
Pharaoh,  and  said:  "Who  is  the  Lord,  that  I  should 
obey  his  voice?"  but  you  have  as  really  renounced 
the  Divine  authority.  You  do  not  so  much  as  pre- 
tend to  make  it  your  chief  object  to  obey  and  please 
God.  If  any  worldly  enterprise  is  recommended  to 
you,  you  do  not  first  ask  counsel  of  God,  and  decide 
whether  the  proposed  course  will  be  pleasing  to  him. 
On  the  contrary,  you  consult  your  w^orldly  interests. 
You  inquire  if  it  will  improve  your  estate ;  if  it  will 
enhance  your  reputation;  if  it  will  minister  to  your 
ease  or  your  worldly  enjoyments. 

You  have  also  deliberately  and  habitually  re- 
nounced God  as  your  portion.  Every  man  who  has 
any  hope  of  enjoyment  chooses  some  portion  for  him- 
self;  something  on  which  he  relies  for  happiness. 


PRACTICAL  ATHEISM.  317 

David  says,  in  the  16th  Psalm  :  "The  Lord  is  the 
portion  of  mine  inheritance,  and  my  cup  ;"  and  in  the 
73d  Ps.  26th  verse,  the  inspired  author  says :  "  God  is 
the  strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion  forever." 
Says  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  in  his  Lamentations : 
"The  Lord  is  my  portion,  saith  my  soul;  therefore 
will  I  hope  in  him."  You  possess  no  such  portion. 
You  have  relinquished  it  of  choice.  You  are  one  of 
those  of  whom  the  Psalmist  speaks  under  the  appel- 
lation of  "  men  of  the  world,  which  have  their  por- 
tion in  this  life."  You  have  not  been  persuaded  to 
this,  and  occasionally  and  for  a  short  time  renounced 
God  as  your  ruler  and  your  portion.  On  the  con- 
trary, you  have  deliberately,  and  for  years  together, 
renounced  the  authority  of  God,  and  renounced  God 
as  the  source  of  your  enjoyments.  You  are  "  with- 
out God  in  the  world."  This  also  is  reciprocal. 
God  has  renounced  and  disowned  you.  He  has  no 
gracious  covenant  with  you  as  with  his  people.  He 
calls  you  "men  of  this  world;"  "the  wicked  and 
children  of  the  wicked  one."  He  acknowledges  you 
not  as  adopted  into  his  family.  He  speaks  not  of 
you  as  "dear  children."  He  has  never  said  of  you, 
as  the  father  of  his  returned  prodigal:  "Bring  forth 
the  best  robe,  and  put  it  on  him."  On  the  contrary, 
he  has  described  you  as  "condemned  already,"  with 
"  the  wrath  of  God  abiding  on  you."  You  are  "  with- 
out God  in  the  world."  There  is  a  mutual  alienation 
of  affection  between  you  and  your  Creator.  There  is 
no  intercourse  and  communion  between  you.    You  do 

27* 


o 


18  SERMON  XVII. 


not  make  the  character  of  God  an  object  of  para- 
mount interest  in  your  contemphitions.  You  have 
renounced  God,  and  he  has  renounced  you;  there  is 
a  wall  of  separation,  heaven  high,  between  you  and 
Your  God.     We  conclude  with  a  few 

REFLECTIONS. 

1.  It  is  a  solemn  reflection  naturaUy  arising  from 
this  subject,  that  you,,  my  friends,  who  are  yet  uncon- 
verted, possess  essentially  the  same  character  with 
those  who  are  already  in  the  ivorld  of  ivoe. 

I  say  essentially  the  same  character,  because  there 
are  strong  circumstantial  differences.  You  are  re- 
strained by  a  thousand  good  influences  which  will  be 
removed  at  death.  But  we  have  no  reason  to  think 
that  death  will  change  the  character  essentially  of 
either  the  righteous  or  the  wicked.  It  will  only  in- 
troduce each  into  a  state  in  which  they  will  be  under 
the  entire  and  constant  dominion  of  their  chosen 
principles  and  chosen  objects  of  regard.  The  righte- 
ous love  God  supremely,  and  dwell  upon  his  charac- 
ter as  the  most  delightful  of  all  objects,  and  choose 
God  as  their  ruler  and  their  portion.  These  objects 
whose  influence  was  partially  counteracted  in  this 
world  will  then  act  on  the  character,  and  impart  to 
it  a  perfect  and  enduring  consistency.  But  you,  my 
friends,  who  are  yet  unconverted,  are  restrained;  you 
are  perfectly  conscious  of  being  held  back  from  the 
full  and  vigorous  action  of  your  sinful  principles. 
Y^ou  are  just  as  perfectly  without  God,  just  as  en- 


PRACTICAL  ATHEISM.  319 

tirely  alienated  in  your  affections,  and  destitute  of 
spiritual  communion  with  God  now  as  is  Judas,  or 
Herod,  or  any  of  the  lost.  Death  will  not  change 
your  character ;  it  will  only  give  your  principles  new 
expansion,  and  enhanced  vigor.  You  will  then  be 
without  God.  Should  you  be  so  unhappy  as  to  make 
your  bed  in  hell,  you  will  be  there  alienated  from 
your  Maker  in  your  affections,  and  he  will  be  alien- 
ated from  you.  You  will  have  no  communion  w^ith 
him  by  prayer.  You  will  renounce  him  ;  he  will  re- 
nounce you  ;  and  this  mutual  alienation  and  renounce- 
ment will  be  eternal.  There  will  be  an  impassable 
gulf  between  you. 

2.  Your  condition  demands  sympathy  not  less  than 
censure. 

We  may  not,  indeed,  conceal  your  guilt.  A 
heavy  curse  rests  upon  that  minister  who  refrains 
from  declaring  the  whole  truth  to  men  concerning 
their  guilty  and  lost  estate.  But  I  rejoice  that  God 
has  not  forbidden  us  to  sympathize  with  you  in  re- 
gard to  the  sufferings  of  your  condition.  He  himself 
has  manifested  the  most  tender  pity,  and  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  one  reason  why  he  committed  the 
preaching  of  his  gospel  to  sinful  men  is,  because  they 
have  had  experience  of  the  bitterness  of  sin,  and 
know  how  to  compassionate  those  that  are  out  of  the 
way.  It  is  obvious  that  your  state  exposes  you  con- 
stantly to  great  unhappiness.  You  are  destitute  of 
everything  like  adequate  consolation  in  affliction. 
Your  worldly  prospects  may  be  dark.    You  may  feel 


820  SERMON  XVII. 

all  the  evils  of  pinching  want.  Your  health  may  be 
seriously  impaired  ;  with  a  diseased  body  your  spirits 
may  droop  ;  yet  "  you  arc  without  God  in  the  world." 
Friends  may  forsake  you ;  enemies  may  be  permitted 
to  multiply.  Now,  if  you  had  an  almighty  Friend  to 
sympathize  with  you,  it  would  be  an  unspeakable 
blessing;  but,  "you  are  without  God  in  the  world." 
You  may  be  bereaved.  The  messenger  of  death  may 
enter  your  family  circle,  and  remove  a  darling  child, 
a  fond  and  venerated  parent,  or  a  beloved  husband  or 
wife ;  then  you  have  no  coveyiant  God  to  whom  you 
may  go.  Y'^es,  you  may  lie  very  soon  on  the  bed  of 
death  yourself.  Enter  that  gloomy  place ;  the  cham- 
ber where  the  unconverted  sinner  is  closing  his  mor- 
tal career.  Crowd  among  those  weeping  attendants. 
Hark!  he  says:  "Not  prepared;"  he  cries  for  mercy. 
He  desists  from  prayer.  His  recollections  of  the 
past  haunt  him.  He  is  quoting  from  memory  a  pass- 
age which  has  often  troubled  him :  "  He  that,  being 
often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck,  shall  suddenly  be 
destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy."  His  voice  fal- 
ters. His  features  are  distorted  for  a  moment,  and 
death  has  completed  his  conquest.  My  soul  draw 
back — seek  not  to  lift  the  veil  which  conceals  his 
eternal  state  from  mortals.  He  was  "without  God  in 
the  world."     He  died  in  his  sins. 

But  there  is  a  gleam  of  brightness  in  this  text. 
Your  condition  is  not  as  sad  as  it  might  be.  You  are 
"  without  God,"  it  is  true,  but  you  are  "  without  God 
in  the  world.''     You  are  not  "  without  God,"  in  hell. 


PRACTICAL  ATHEISM.  321 

You  are  not  necessarily  shut  up  to  a  state  of  eternal 
alienation  from  your  Maker.  You  are  surrounded 
with  examples  of  the  daily  recovery  of  lost  sinners. 
You  have  the  word  of  reconciliation  in  your  hands. 
The  sweet  sounds  of  gospel  grace  fall  upon  your  ear. 
God  is  lavishing  upon  you  his  gifts.  The  Holy 
Spirit  has  not  ceased  to  remonstrate  and  to  plead  with 
you.  And  it  is  a  fearfully  interesting  crisis.  It  is 
sad  to  see  one  in  the  last  stage  of  disease.  Our  minds 
are  oppressed  with  gloom  when  we  perceive  such  an 
one  constantly  advancing  towards  death.  But  what 
a  relief  is  it  in  such  a  case  to  witness  the  arrival  of 
a  skilful  physician  with  the  certain  means  of  cure. 
All  hearts  are  cheered.  All  are  elated  with  hope. 
They  only  inquire  if  the  remedy  be  sure.  The  trem- 
bling wife  and  weeping  children  listen  in  breathless 
suspense  to  know  if  it  be  absolutely  certain  that  the 
remedy  is  a  sure  one.  Is  the  medicine  good  ?  Is  it 
properly  prepared  ?  Has  the  physician  arrived  in 
time  ?  All  these  inquiries  are  answered  in  the  affirm- 
ative. Then  he  may  surely  recover.  But  here  is 
another  difficulty.  The  dying  man  is  reluctant  to 
apply  the  remedy.  The  physician  advises  ;  friends 
beseech  ;  still,  all  is  uncertain.  Ah  !  pitiable,  indeed, 
is  it  to  see  one  dying,  with  abundant  means  of  re- 
covery before  him.  Pitiable,  to  see  a  drowning  man 
turn  and  struggle,  and  push  himself  away  from  the 
life-boat,  and  disengage  the  hand  from  him  that  seeks 
to  lift  him  from  a  watery  grave.  Pitiable,  to  see  one 
perishing  with  hunger,  and  yet  refusing  to  take  bread 


322  SERMON  xvir. 

"when  there  is  enoufrh  and  to  spare,  brought  to  him 
by  the  hand  of  kindness.     But  far  more  pitiable  than 
any  of  these,  is  the  state  of   that  lost  sinner,  who  is 
"without  God"  in  this  world  of  probation  and  mercy 
and  grace.     To  be  without  God  in  hell  should  not  be 
strange,  for  there  is  no  gospel,  no  calls  of  mercy,  no 
Holy  Spirit,  no  Saviour  held  up  as  crucified  and  slain 
for  you,  no  voice  from  the  messengers  of  grace  saying, 
*'  Behold  the   Lamb   of  God  which  taketh  away  the 
sins"  of  hell!     But  what  mean  you,  my  dying  uncon- 
verted friend,  to   be   "without  God  in  the  world  ?" 
You  are  "without  God"  when  his  gifts  are  poured 
into  your  lap  in  rich  profusion  :  when  health  and  abun- 
dance, and   friends,  and   domestic   comfort  surround 
you,  and  solicit  your  gratitude  to  the  Father  of  mercies. 
When  he  has  just  restored  one   of  your  family  from 
dangerous   illness,  or  has  brought  up  your  own  feet 
from  the  grave's  brink ;  from  the  verge  of  eternal  death 
you  are  still  "without  God."    You  are  "without  God" 
in  your  afflictions.     He  has  lifted  his  rod  of  chastise- 
ment.    He  has  clothed  your  family  in  mourning.     He 
has  removed  your  lovely  infant,  or  taken  your  wife, 
your  husband,  and  made  your  house  desolate  as  the 
temple  of  the  Lord  when  pillaged  of  its  sacred  utensils. 
Yet  you  regard  not  his  call ;  you  are  "  without  God  in 
the  world."     You  are  "without  God''  in  your  retire- 
ment.    Without  him  when  mingling  with  Christian 
friends.      You    are    "  without    God"     in    his    holy 
sanctuary — without  him  where   others   are   enjoying 
sweet   communion    with    him.     Without   him,    when 


PRACTICAL  ATHEISM.  823 

others  are  turning  to  him.  Without  him  in  revivals 
of  religion,  when  many  are  turning  to  their  Saviour,  and 
"when  he  is  saying  to  them,  hy  the  gracious  influence 
of  his  Spirit:  "Son,  daughter,  be  of  good  cheer,  thy 
sins  be  forgiven  thee."  You  are  "  without  God"  now, 
while  I  offer  you  salvation  freely  through  the  blood 
of  Christ.  Yes,  here  you  are  "  without  God  in  the 
world."  Dying  with  the  remedy  before  you.  Sink- 
ing beside  the  very  ark  of  safety.  Refusing  an  of- 
fered pardon  while  on  the  way  to  execution. 

Awake,  sinful  soul.  Awake  from  thy  guilty  slum- 
bers. Call  upon  thy  God.  Be  reconciled  now  in  the 
day  of  his  gracious  visitation,  lest  thou  be  found  to  be 
"  without  God"  at  the  bar  of  Christ,  and  lest  thy 
eternal  history  be  given  in  a  reiterated  wail  from  thy 
lips:  "Without  God!"  "without  God!"  "without 
God!"  "without  God,"  forever! 


SERMON   XVIII. 

FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER. 

I  AM  PURE  FROM  THE  BLOOD  OP  ALL  MEN.       Acts  XX.  26. 

The  office  of  the  sacred  ministry  is  one  of  solemn 
import.  The  faithful  discharge  of  its  duties  secures 
for  those  who  honor  and  appropriately  receive  its  in- 
fluence, the  highest  conceivable  benefits.  Through 
its  instrumentality,  domestic  virtues  and  domestic 
peace  are  secured  to  families.  By  its  means,  multi- 
tudes are  saved  from  vice,  and  the  character  of  the 
young  is  formed  to  probity  and  honor. 

But  its  great  power  is  evinced  in  securing,  through 
the  Divine  blessing,  the  salvation  of  immortal  souls. 
If  such,  however,  be  the  consequences  of  a  faithful 
discharge  of  the  functions  of  the  sacred  office,  it  will 
also  follow  that  the  delinquencies  of  the  minister  of 
Christ  may  render  him  responsible  for  failing  to  confer 
these  blessings.  If  one  family  fails  of  domestic  hap- 
piness for  the  want  of  faithfulness  on  the  part  of  its 
pastor,  that  pastor  must  be  held  responsible  for  the 
misery  that  ensues.  If  one  young  man  becomes  the 
victim  of  vice,  for  the  want  of  ministerial  fidelity,  his 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  325 

pastor  must  answer  for  it  to  God.  If  a  single  soul 
sinks  down  into  death  eternal  through  the  delinquency 
of  a  minister  of  Christ,  that  minister  must  be  answer- 
able for  the  blood  of  him  that  perishes. 

The  truth  of  these  statements  being  fully  admitted, 
the  apostle  Paul  declares,  by  the  language  of  our 
text,  that  he  is  not  responsible  for  the  death  of  the 
souls  of  any  of  those  whom  he  addresses.  The  meta- 
phorical language  employed  by  him  is  exceedingly 
striking  and  impressive  :  "  I  am  pure  from  the  blood 
of  all  men." 

It  has  been  usual,  in  all  ages,  and  perhaps  among 
all  nations,  to  represent  those  who  are  guilty  of  mur- 
der as  being  defiled  by  the  blood  of  their  victims.  A 
popular  impression  has  also  prevailed,  that  the  blood 
of  one  that  has  been  murdered  cannot  be  washed  from 
the  person  or  garments  of  his  destroyer.  In  con- 
formity with  this  use  of  language,  and  these  concep- 
tions, one  strongly  declares  that  he  is  not  guilty  in 
relation  to  the  death  of  another,  when  he  avers  that  he 
is  not  defiled  by  his  blood.  Such  a  declaration  Pilate 
made,  when  he  washed  his  hands  in  the  presence  of 
the  crucifiers  of  our  Lord,  and  exclaimed :  "  I  am  in- 
nocent of  the  blood  of  this  just  person,  see  ye  to  it." 
Such  a  declaration  Paul  also  makes  in  the  18th 
chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  where  it  is  said  : 
"Paul  was  pressed  in  the  spirit,  and  testified  to  the  Jews, 
that  Jesus  was  Christ.  And  when  they  opposed  them- 
selves, and  blasphemed,  he  shook  his  raiment,  and  said 
unto  them,  Your  blood  be  upon  your  own  heads  :  I  am 
28 


32G  SERMON  xviir. 

clean."  In  tins  last  instance,  the  death  of  the  soul 
rather  than  the  death  of  the  body  is  referred  to.  The 
apostle  did  not  mean  to  intimate  that,  if  his  Jewish 
brethren  had  received  his  testimony  with  respect  to 
Jesus  being  the  true  Messiah,  then  they  should  not, 
on  that  account,  be  any  more  exposed  to  natural 
death.  He  meant  rather  to  teach  that,  through  faith 
in  the  Messiah,  they  should  be  saved  from  the  death 
of  their  immortal  souls.  But  they  opposed  themselves, 
and  blasphemed,  when  he  employed  the  best  possible 
means  to  convince  and  save  them.  Hence,  they  would 
perish  eternally,  and  it  would  be  entirely  by  their  own 
fault.  Then,  adapting  forcible  symbolic  action  to  the 
words  employed,  he  shook  his  raiment,  and  exclaimed: 
"  Your  blood  be  upon  your  own  heads:  I  am  clean." 
So,  in  our  text,  the  apostle  means  to  say,  that  he  can- 
not be  charged  with  the  eternal  ruin  of  any  of  his 
hearers.  I  do  not  understand  him  as  denying  that  he 
may  have  been  the  instrument  of  destroying  souls 
previously  to  his  own  conversion.  Nor  docs  ho  mean 
by  all  men,  in  this  passage,  anything  more  extensive 
than  all  of  those  whom  he  had  been  able  to  reach  by 
his  ministry  at  Ephesus.  But  lie  does  mean  to  say 
that  those  who  then  heard  him  could  bear  Avitness  that 
his  influence,  as  a  minister  of  Chri>st,  had  been  such 
that,  if  they  were  lost,  it  could  not  be  said  to  have 
occurred  through  any  defect  of  his  ministry ;  but  that 
the  undivided  blame  rested  on  themselves. 

The  example  of  the  apostle  Paul  is  worthy  of  being 
deeply  pondered  and  copied.     This  example,  however, 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  327 

was  only  the  legitimate  result  of  a  simple  faith  in 
Christ.  I  feel  justified,  therefore,  in  deriving  from 
it  the  following 

PROPOSITION. 

THE  FAITHFUL  MINISTER  OF  CHRIST  IS  CAREFUL  NOT 
TO  INVOLVE  HIMSELF  IN  THE  GUILT  OF  SOUL- 
MURDER. 

I  shall  endeavor  to  illustrate  this  proposition,  and 
evince  its  truth,  by  adverting  to  the  means  which  the 
faithful  minister  of  Christ  employs  to  avoid  the  guilt 
of  soul-murder.  These  means  may  be  all  included  in 
three  things: — 

His  cherished  sentimeyits  ;  . 

His  preaching  ;  a7id 

His  conduct. 

I.  His  cherished  sentiinents. — If  we  wish  to  achieve 
an  end  that  demands  strenuous  effort,  the  first  thing 
to  be  done  is  to  form  an  earnest  purpose.  This  pur- 
pose is  formed,  and  acquires  its  needful  vigor,  by 
cherishing  those  sentiments  that  give  birth  to  it.  Thus 
a  skilful  general,  who  would  fire  his  troops  with  de- 
termined valor,  does  not  merely  exhort  them  to  the 
performance  of  their  duty:  he  leads  them  to  consider 
how  brilliant  their  conquest  will  be  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world.  He  awakens  their  desire  of  military  glory. 
He  turns  their  attention  to  the  mountains,  and 
streams,  and  loved  institutions  of  their  native  land, 
and  kindles  the  glow  of  patriotic  feeling.  He  adverts 
to  their  domestic  hearths  and  altars,  to  their  infirm 


328  SERMON  XVIII. 

parents,  their  beloved  wives  and  children,  and  calls 
up  the  lively  exercise  of  domestic  affection ;  and  thus 
employs  these  warm  sentiments,  the  love  of  glory,  of 
country,  and  of  kindred,  to  create  that  cool  earnestness 
which  is  essential  to  a  successful  battle. 

We  are  guided  by  the  same  law  of  our  nature  in 
acting  upon  our  own  minds  when  we  would  secure 
vigorous  and  successful  endeavor.  The  military  leader 
has  called  into  action  the  same  principle  in  preparing 
himself  for  successful  effort.  He  has  first  cherished 
the  same  sentiments  in  his  own  bosom,  that  he  might 
give  firmness  to  his  purpose,  and  vigor  and  persever- 
ance to  his  action.  In  like  manner,  when  we  would 
achieve  any  difiicult  enterprise,  we  always  call  into 
action  and  cherish  those  intense  sentiments  which  im- 
part the  needful  impulse  to  our  endeavors.  In  con- 
formity with  this  principle,  the  faithful  minister  of 
Christ  calls  to  mind  the  fact  that  the  souls  of  his  flock 
are  in  imminent  danger  of  eternal  death.  He  dwells 
upon  the  truth  that  they  clearly  deserve  such  a  doom. 
Their  sin  is  against  an  infinitely  great  and  glorious 
God.  It  is  a  voluntary  departure  from  all  holiness. 
It  is  a  self-exile,  made  without  any  limit,  and  rendered 
naturally  enduring  by  the  fixed  law  of  habit.  In  con- 
nection with  this,  he  remembers  that  they  are  actually 
condemned  by  the  Divine  law.  He  thus  cherishes  a 
sentiment  of  deep  compassion.  Such  guilt,  such  a 
just  condemnation,  such  a  prospective  doom,  are  held 
by  himself  before  his  own  mind,  till  the  desire  to  do 
something  effective  for  their  rescue  becomes  as  a  fire 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  329 

shut  up  in  his  bones.  He  believes,  further,  that  one 
man  may  be  guilty  of  the  eternal  ruin  of  another ; 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  the  guilt  of  soul-murder. 
He  has  observed  that  it  is  a  general  law  of  the  Divine 
government  that  moral  beings  socially  related  act  con- 
tinually on  one  another's  interests.  One  man  may 
injure  another  in  any  of  his  interests.  He  may  de- 
fraud him  of  property,  he  may  mar  his  reputation, 
he  may  deprive  him  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  ho 
may  take  away  from  him  the  key  of  knowledge,  he 
may  impair  his  health,  maim  his  person,  kill  his  body, 
corrupt  his  principles,  and  destroy  his  soul.  Nor  is 
there  is  any  more  doubt  respecting  the  last-named  of 
these  interests  than  there  is  in  relation  to  any  of  the 
rest.  It  is  as  obvious  that  men  act  upon  one  another's 
character,  as  that  they  touch  one  another's  temporal 
interests  in  the  smallest  matter.  If  one  induce  his 
friend  to  turn  away  from  a  single  opportunity  to  hear 
the  gospel,  it  may  prove  the  means  of  preventing  that 
friend  from  ever  finding  salvation. 

The  influence  of  a  calm,  protracted,  full  meditation 
on  this  fact,  is  enough  to  overwhelm  any  one,  that  lives, 
and  moves,  and  has  his  being  among  men,  with  a  sense 
of  his  own  responsibility.  The  faithful  minister  en- 
deavors by  these  meditations  to  cherish,  in  his  own 
mind,  sentiments  of  the  profoundest  responsibility  to 
God  and  man,  and  to  do  what  he  can  for  the  salva- 
tion of  the  lost.  To  bring  the  subject  home  to  his 
own  heart,  he  dwells  much  upon  the  peculiar  respon- 
sibilities, in  this  respect,  which  belong  to  the  sacred 

28* 


330  SERMON  XVIII. 

office.  While  others  may  be  as  truly  guilty  of  soul- 
murder,  both  by  their  action  and  their  neglect,  as  the 
professed  minister  of  Christ,  yet  no  other  class  of  men 
are  charged  with  such  numerous  obligations  —  no 
others  can  involve  themselves  in  so  much  of  this  kind 
of  guilt  by  mere  neglect.  It  may  be  that  there  are 
hundreds,  or  perhaps  a  thousand  souls  subject  to  the 
influence  of  his  spiritual  teaching.  He  conceives  of 
two  widely  diiferent  results  as  possible  when  he  shall 
meet  them  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ.  He  may 
meet  them  with  his  own  robes  spotless.  If  some  of 
his  former  flock  shall  then  be  seen  bidding  a  final  fare- 
well to  their  pastor  and  their  pious  friends,  he  can 
say:  "Your  blood  be  upon  your  own  heads:  I  am 
clean."  On  the  contrary,  he  can  conceive  that  he 
may  meet  many  of  his  people,  yet  in  their  sins ;  that 
they  may  look  up  to  him  with  accusing  countenances, 
and  that  he  may  not  be  able,  like  Paul  at  Ephesus,  to 
shake  his  robes  and  say:  "I  am  pure  from  the  blood 
of  all  men."  The  sentiments  awakened  by  these  re- 
flections prepare  the  mind  of  the  faithful  minister  for 
acting  with  determination,  with  zeal,  with  energy. 
It  was  by  this  means  that  Paul  was  aroused  to  such 
intense  desire  and  earnest  endeavor  on  behalf  of  his 
Jewish  brethren.  "I  say  the  truth  in  Christ,"  ex- 
claims he:  "I  lie  not;  my  own  conscience  bearing 
me  witness  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  I  have  great  heavi- 
ness and  continual  sorrow  in  my  heart.  For  I  could 
wish  myself  accursed  from  Christ,  for  my  brethren,  my 
kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh."     That  is  to  say,  as 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  331 

I  understand  him,  I  could  be  willing  to  be  made  a 
curse  after  the  manner  of  Christ,  to  be  crucified  as  he 
was,  if  by  such  means  my  blinded  countrymen  could 
be  led  to  see  the  truth  and  to  find  salvation.  Thus 
does  every  faithful  minister  of  the  Lord  Jesus  endea- 
vor to  avoid  involving  himself  in  the  guilt  of  soul- 
murder,  by  cherishing  those  sentiments  which  will 
impel  him  to  earnest  action.  Another  means  which 
a  faithful  minister  employs  to  avoid  the  guilt  of 
soul-murder  is 

II.  His  preaching. — Under  the  influence  of  such 
sentiments,  he  endeavors  to  avoid  this  peculiar  guilt 
by  the  manner  in  which  he  proclaims  the  gospel.  He 
is  careful  not  to  preach  for  doctrines  the  command- 
ments of  men.  Aware  of  the  fact  that  the  gospel  is 
not  adapted  to  gratify  the  corrupt  desires  of  human 
nature,  he  does  not  inquire  what  will  please  his  hearers, 
but  only  what  will  be  most  likely  to  confer  upon  them 
lasting  benefits.  He  knows  that  the  same  thing  is 
true  of  him  which  was  true  of  the  apostle  Paul ;  if  he 
yet  pleases  men,  he  cannot  be  the  servant  of  Christ. 
Yet,  though  the  offence  of  the  cross  has  not  ceased, 
he  will  be  careful  not  to  awaken,  unnecessarily,  pre- 
judices against  the  gospel. 

He  dares  not  to  magnify  the  external  rites  of  the 
church,  lest  men  shall  be  led  to  trust  in  a  form  of 
godliness  while  they  deny  its  power.  He  cannot  trust 
to  human  speculations,  whether  they  be  those  of  others 
or  his  own.  The  Bible  he  regards  as  his  only  safe 
guide,  and,  praying  for  the  illuminations  of  the  Divine 


332  SERMON  XVIII. 

Spirit,  that  he  may  not  be  misled  in  its  interpretation, 
he  resolves  to  preach  nothing  but  the  counsel  of  God 
as  there  revealed. 

He  is  also  careful  to  preach  the  whole  gospel.  A 
vast  variety  of  instruction  is  contained  in  the  sacred 
volume.  It  would  be  easy  for  one  to  preach  a  whole 
lifetime,  and  exhibit  in  every  discourse  truth,  and 
pure  truth,  draAvn  from  the  sacred  sources,  and  yet 
leave  the  most  prominent  truths  of  revealed  religion 
perfectly  untouched.  One  might  preach  for  fifty 
years  on  the  precepts  of  our  Saviour  alone,  and  still 
his  themes  should  be  unexhausted;  yet  he  should  say 
not  one  word  of  the  extent  of  the  claims  of  the  Divine 
law,  or  of  the  ultimate  consequences  of  disobedience, 
or  of  the  methods  of  God's  grace  in  the  pardon  and 
sanctification,  and  eternal  salvation  of  men.  Thou- 
sands of  true  and  highly  important  discourses  might 
be  framed  on  the  social  duties  of  men.  An  indefinite 
number  of  pleasing  and  useful  themes  might  be  found 
in  sacred  history;  and  while  the  preacher  should  treat 
these  themes  with  great  skill,  and  educe  from  them  a 
large  amount  of  valuable  instruction,  he  might  not 
be  able  to  say,  after  communicating  it:  "I  am  pure 
from  the  blood  of  all  men,  for  I  have  not  shunned  to 
declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God." 

Nor  is  it  enough,  in  his  esteem,  that  he  has  not 
neglected  any  important  truth.  He  aims  to  exhibit 
the  truths  of  religion  in  their  due  proportions.  If 
moral  duties  be  exhibited  Avith  chief  prominence,  and 
the  principles  on  which   the  justification,  sanctifica- 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  333 

tion,  and  salvation  of  the  soul  are  secured  be  only 
cursorily  brought  forward,  and  slightly  dwelt  on, 
how  manifestly  is  the  work  of  preaching  performed 
in  an  unfaithful  manner  !  But  the  faithful  minister, 
under  the  influence  of  those  cherished  sentiments,  to 
which  we  have  before  adverted,  cannot  avoid  giving 
the  first  place,  as  the  Bible  does,  to  the  claims  of  the 
Divine  law ;  the  guilt  and  condemnation  of  his  hear- 
ers ;  the  pardon  proffered  through  the  blood  of 
Christ;  the  sanctifying  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
the  eternal  judgment.  He  knows  that  if  these  themes 
are  brought  to  the  minds  and  hearts  of  his  hearers 
as  great  and  solemn  realities,  they  will  produce  effect. 
To  give  them  effect,  he  is  aware  that  there  is  one 
grand  central  object  around  which  they  must  all  be 
made  to  cluster.  That  object  is  a  crucified  Saviour. 
He  knows  that  if  his  hearers  can  be  induced  to  be- 
hold, with  interest,  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world,  then  they  will  appreciate 
all  the  other  great  doctrines  associated  with  his  cross. 
If  it  be  once  heartily  admitted  that  we  have  for- 
giveness through  his  blood,  then  it  must  be  conceded 
that  we  are  condemned  by  a  perfect  law,  that  there  is 
a  necessity  for  trusting  in  Christ,  and  for  an  imme- 
diate repentance.  Then  reconciliation  with  God,  will 
be  seen  to  be  the  thing  first  to  be  sought  by  every 
perishing  soul. 

These,  then,  must  always  be  the  great  and  promi- 
nent themes  of  him  who  means  to  be  pure  from  the 
blood  of  all  men.     He  will  preach  Christ  to  his  hear- 


334  SERMON  XVIII. 

ers.  lie  will  aim  to  show  them  that  they  need  such 
a  Saviour,  because  they  are  in  a  state  of  condemna- 
tion by  the  Divine  law.  lie  will  endeavor  to  con- 
vince them  that  forgiveness  and  justification  are 
entirely  gratuitous.  No  good  works,  no  outward 
morality  can  avail  anything,  either  for  their  justifica- 
tion directly,  or  to  prepare  them  to  receive  it.  Good 
works  can  avail  nothing  for  their  justification  directly, 
because  their  goodness  is  not  the  ground  of  their  jus- 
tification. They  are  to  be  pardoned.  Men  are  never 
pardoned  because  they  have  done  right :  they  need 
pardon  only  because  they  have  done  wrong.  Christ's 
sacrifice  is  the  only  ground  of  forgiveness ;  we  have 
forgiveness  through  his  blood.  Good  works  cannot 
prepare  them  for  this.  Right  motives,  an  humble  and 
subdued  temper  are  indispensable  to  the  acceptable- 
ness  of  any  act  before  a  holy  God,  and  no  man  can 
possess  such  a  temper  without  being  willing  to  accept 
of  pardon  as  a  gratuitous  bestowment  through  the 
expiation  of  the  great  sacrificial  offering,  the  Lamb 
of  God,  that  taketh  awav  the  sin  of  the  world. 

Hence,  the  faithful  minister  glories  in  the  cross 
alone,  and  preaches  Christ,  the  power  of  God,  and 
the  wisdom  of  God,  to  every  one  that  believeth.  But 
besides  preaching  the  truth  in  distinction  from  error, 
the  whole  truth  in  opposition  to  partial  views,  and 
exhibiting  those  things  that  are  of  chief  consequence 
with  the  greatest  prominence,  he  aims,  by  his  manner 
of  preaching,  to  secure  the  most  favorable  result. 
He  aims  especially,  in  all  his  preaching,  to  impart 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  335 

clear  instruction.  He  has  no  hope  that  men  will  be 
led  to  enter  upon  the  way  of  salvation  unless  they 
understand  it,  and  he  has  no  expectation  of  exerting 
a  powerful  influence,  but  through  a  clear  intelligence 
in  respect  to  the  things  of  God.  In  reproof,  he  aims 
to  be  kind  and  gentle,  as  well  as  plain,  and  endeavors 
to  possess  the  character  described  by  the  Prophet, 
when  he  says:  ^'He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise."  In 
his  exhortations,  he  is  fervent  and  importunate.  If 
he  does  not  realize  immediate  success,  he  is  patient 
and  persevering,  testifying,  in  a  great  variety  of 
ways,  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God,  freeing  his  own 
conscience,  and  declaring  himself  pure  from  the  blood 
of  all  men. 

III.  Seeking  to  be  thus  free  from. the  guilt  of  soul- 
murder,  by  his  cherished  sentiments  and  his  preach- 
ing, he  carries  out  the  same  design  in  his  conduct. 
He  seizes  upon  the  opportunities  for  exerting  a  per- 
sonal influence  over  the  individuals  of  his  flock,  and 
endeavors  by  conversations  and  prayers,  wherever  he 
can  discover  a  disposition  to  receive  such  services,  to 
win  men  to  the  love  of  the  gospel.  He  incites  others 
to  similar  endeavors,  leading  each  disciple  of  Christ, 
as  far  as  possible,  to  abound  in  judicious  efforts  to 
lead  their  friends  and  fellow-men  to  secure  their  ever- 
lasting interests.  In  short,  he  manifests,  by  various 
and  natural  methods,  that  he  is  seeking  the  salvation 
of  every  individual  of  his  flock.  He  leaves  a  convic- 
tion in  the  conscience  of  the  reflecting  sinner,  that 
he  has  been  dealt  with  both  kindly  and  faithfully. 


336  SERMON  XVIII. 

Men  of  different  native  powers  and  habits  will 
doubtless  varj;;  in  their  modes  of  action.  Some  will 
be  more  social  in  their  intercourse  with  their  hearers, 
and  will  achieve  great  results  by  their  personal  con- 
versations ;  others  will  rely  more  upon  their  public 
ministrations.  But  every  faithful  minister  of  Christ 
will  so  conduct  himself  that  when  he  shall  say,  with 
Paul,  "  I  am  pure  from  the  blood  of  all  men,"  the 
hearts  of.  the  people  shall  respond — thou  art  pure 
from  our  blood;  thou  hast  delivered  thy  soul. 

These  views  seem  to  me  to  furnish  the  means  of 
correcting  a  very  common  practical  error ;  I  mean 
the  error  of  supposing  that  Christianity  naturally 
leads  to  a  course  of  conduct  which  almost  all  judicious 
men  judge  to  be  extravagant.  The  error  alluded  to 
finds  its  advocates  in  two  widely  different  classes  of 
persons,  namely,  very  ardent  Christians  and  fault- 
finding skeptics. 

I  will  reply  to  each  separately.  There  are  some 
very  ardent  Christians,  who  say,  in  the  language  of 
humiliation  and  confession  :  "None  of  us  act  as  if  we 
believed  that  sinners  were  continually  exposed  to 
eternal  death,  and  that  their  rescue  depended  upon 
our  fidelity.  If  we  fully  believed  this,"  say  they, 
*'we  could  not  rest  night  or  day;  we  should  feel  bound 
to  warn  men  continually  of  their  danger.  We  should 
arrest  every  passer  by  in  the  street,  ask  him  if  he  be 
a  Christian,  and  if  not,  tell  him  plainly  that  he  is 
walking  in  the  way  to  death,  and  invite  him  to  come 
to  Christ."     It  appears  humble  to  confess  that  it  is 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  337 

nothing  but  our  guilty  unbelief  that  prevents  our 
taking  such  a  course.  Christians  are  afraid  to  reply 
to  the  assertions  of  their  ardent  brother,  lest  they 
should  seem  to  be  justifying  themselves  and  repress- 
ing the  self-denial  that  reproved  their  inactivity. 
Now  I  beg  to  say  that  this  whole  strain  of  reasoning, 
notwithstanding  it  appears  so  pious,  is  founded  in 
mistake.  The  conclusion  does  not  follow  at  all  from 
the  premises.  I  show  it  in  this  way.  If  we  fully 
believe  that  men  are  exposed  to  eternal  death,  and 
that  their  rescue  depends  upon  their  being  persuaded 
to  accept  the  terms  of  salvation,  we  shall  use  the  best 
means  in  our  power  to  lead  them  to  embrace  the  gos- 
pel. In  the  reasoning  just  adverted  to,  it  is  assumed 
that  the  most  active  means  is  always  the  most  power- 
ful. This  is  by  no  means  the  fact.  Suppose  a  friend 
of  yours  is  dangerously  ill.  You  know  that  but  one 
remedy  can  heal  him.  This  remedy  is  a  certain  cure, 
but  in  order  to  its  efficacy  you  know  that  the  patient 
must  not  only  take  it  willingly,  but  that  he  must  even 
ask  it  as  a  privilege.  This  sick  friend  is  in  a  peculiar 
state  of  mind.  In  the  first  place,  he  does  not  really 
believe  that  he  is  dangerously  ill.  He  wishes  to  hear 
nothing  about  death  or  danger,  and  the  man  that 
abruptly  undertakes  to  convince  him  that  he  must  die 
is  almost  sure  to  lose  all  influence  over  him.  Then, 
he  dislikes  your  remedy,  and  may  probably  feel  a 
deeper  dislike  if  his  atteijtion  be  not  drawn  to  it  in  a 
very  gentle  manner.  Then,  he  has  expressed  himself 
against  that  remedy,  and  a  large  circle  of  his  friends 
29 


838  SERMON  XVIII. 

know  it.  His  pride  of  opinion  is  arrayed  against  it. 
In  addition  to  all  this,  he  has  a  prejudice  against  you. 
He  knows  what  you  think  of  this  remedy,  and  he 
judges  you,  on  that  account,  to  be  an  extravagant 
man.  Have  you  not  a  very  delicate  as  well  as  great 
work  to  perform,  to  overcome  all  these  difficulties  and 
induce  your  sick  friend  to  beg  for  that  remedy  of  his 
own  accord  ?  You  will  not  run  to  him  like  one  out  of 
breath,  and  wake  him  suddenly,  while  in  the  irritations 
of  a  fever,  and  tell  him  he  will  certainly  die,  and  that 
he  must  take  your  remedy,  and  then,  if  he  replies 
angrily,  tell  him  again,  I  thought  as  much ;  you  hate 
the  remedy,  and  that  is  a  fatal  symptom.  It  is  true, 
that  the  alarm  and  excitement  in  such  a  case  might, 
possibly,  operate  favorably  in  a  given  instance.  In 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  however,  your  efforts  would 
prove  a  failure  not  only,  but  they  would  also  operate 
as  a  hindrance  to  the  future  efforts  of  others.  Now, 
like  the  state  of  mind  of  this  supposed  sick  friend  is 
the  state  of  very  many  unconverted  men.  So  the 
Bible  represents  them.  Such  the  most  successful 
ministers  have  found  them  to  be  in  an  intercourse 
with  hundreds,  some  of  whom  they  have  been  instru- 
mental in  winning  over  to  a  hearty  acceptance  of  the 
gospel.  Do  not  say,  this  is  discouraging  effort.  It 
is  only  demanding  of  you  that  you  employ  that  effort 
which  is  most  effective.  "  Wisdom  is  better  than 
strength." 

The  fault-finding  skeptic  makes,  substantially,  the 
same  complaint  against  Christians.     "Why,"  says  he, 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  339 

''  if  I  believed  as  you  profess  to  do,  I  would  go  and 
wake  mj  friends  at  midnight,  and  warn  tliem  to  prepare 
to  meet  God.  The  thought  that  one  might  die  unwarned 
and  unprepared  would  distract  me."  My  reply  is,  then 
you  would  act  a  very  irrational  part,  and  the  whole 
amount  of  what  you  say  is  simply  this :  "  If  I  w^ere 
to  become  a  Christian  I  would  becom^e  a  fanatic,  at 
once,  and  see  how  quickly  I  could  destroy  my  influ- 
ence with  all  calm,  reasonable,  reflecting  men,  and 
how  quickly  I  could  impair  all  of  that  well-poised 
balance  of  my  own  mind,  by  which  mental  power  is 
both  preserved  and  augmented."  To  such  a  skeptic 
I  reply,  that,  for  myself,  I  would  do  no  such  thing. 
On  the  contrary,  when  I  received  the  gospel,  I  would 
endeavor  to  imbibe  a  good  portion  of  its  gentleness 
and  cool  wisdom,  as  well  as  much  of  its  ardor  and 
earnestness.  I  would  endeavor  so  to  distribute  my 
labors  that  in  proportion  as  men  reflected  deeply  they 
should  approve  them.  I  would  act  like  a  judicious 
physician  who  should  be  placed  amid  tens  of  thousands 
dying  with  epidemic  disease.  I  would  consider  how 
I  could  reach  the  greatest  number,  and  preserve  my 
own  energies  and  influence  for  the  good  of  others. 
And  I  am  sure  I  should  be  justified  by  that  revela- 
tion which  has  said :  ''  He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise." 
2.  In  this  connection,  let  me  say  one  word  in  rela- 
tion to  the  apparent  neglect  of  ministers  in  speaking 
to  individuals  in  relation  to  their  spiritual  interests. 
You  may  have  said  in  your  own  mind,  it  is  strange 
that  such  or  such  a  minister  of  the  gospel  never  said 


340  SERMON  XVIII. 

anything  to  me  personally  respecting  my  spiritual  well- 
being.  If  you  have  been  on  terms  of  intimacy  for  a 
long  time  with  such  a  minister,  and  he  has  said  no- 
thing, it  is  truly  strange.  If  not,  may  not  a  certain 
shyness  and  coldness  in  your  behavior  have  led  him  to 
believe  that  he  could  not  speak  plainly  without  so  dis- 
obliging you  as  to  lose  all  influence  over  you  for  future 
good  ?  You  say  you  have  not  intended  any  such  thing. 
Yet  you  may  have  done  it ;  and  you  have  no  right  to 
judge  his  motives  or  his  wisdom  till  you  have  given 
some  intimations,  by  words  or  by  actions,  that  such 
conversation  will  be  acceptable.  Doubtless  there  is 
great  neglect  in  this  respect  in  many  cases.  Yet,  if 
you  are  living  in  sin,  and  declining  to  approach  the 
minister  of  Christ  for  counsel,  complaint  and  censure 
come  with  a  very  ill  grace  from  your  lips. 

3.  If  such  be  the  responsibleness  of  the  minister  of 
Christ,  that  is  not  less  solemn  which  rests  on  others, 
in  their  respective  spheres  of  influence.  Parents, 
teachers,  and  indeed  all  persons,  exercise  each  an  in- 
fluence on  the  spiritual  interests  of  those  to  whom 
they  are  socially  related.  As  a  specimen,  let  us 
contemplate  the  single  instance  of  the  obligation  of 
parents,  in  respect  to  the  souls  of  their  children. 

Fathers  and  mothers,  you  are  ministers  of  God  to 
your  children.  Your  flock  is,  indeed,  less  numerous 
than  that  of  the  public  preacher  of  the  gospel.  But 
you  have,  on  that  very  account,  a  more  perfect  super- 
vision over  them.  Y^'our  obligations  da  not  respect  so 
large  a  number;  but  you  arc  under  a  weightier  re- 


FREEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  341 

sponsibillty  in  regard  to  each  one  of  your  little  flock 
than  any  minister  can  be  in  respect  to  each  one  of  his 
more  numerous  charge.  The  principles  that  bind  you 
to  faithfulness  are  the  same  as  those  that  impose  obli- 
gation upon  the  pastor.  You  may  become  guilty  of 
soul-murder.  Nor  will  the  fact  that  you  are  not  a 
professor  of  religion  diminish,  in  the  least,  the  guilt 
of  your  unnatural  neglect  of  the  spiritual  well-being 
of  your  offspring.  Their  souls  are  of  unspeakable 
worth.  If  you  discharge  your  duty  in  teaching  them, 
and  in  praying  for  the  illuminations  of  the  Divine 
Spirit;  if  you  endeavor,  with  pious  solicitude,  to  Avin 
them  to  their  Saviour,  you  may  hope  to  be,  under 
God,  the  instrument  of  their  salvation.  If  you  ne- 
glect them,  they  may  be  lost  forever,  and  you  may  be 
unable  to  stand  up  and  shake  your  raiment,  and  say, 
with  Paul :  ^'  I  am  pure  from  the  blood  of  all  men," 
or  even  to  say,  "  I  am  pure  from  the  blood  of  my  own 
dear  children." 

4.  If  such  be  the  obligations  of  ministers,  and, 
by  inference,  the  obligations  of  all  men  in  their  re- 
spective spheres,  each  one  is  under  still  higher  obliga- 
tions in  respect  to  himself.  The  obligation  to  secure 
the  well-being  of  persons  bears  some  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  probability  with  which  success  may  be 
expected.  If  the  minister  of  the  gospel  knew  cer- 
tainly that  his  efforts  would  be  of  no  avail,  then  he 
could  not  be  guilty  of  soul-murder,  because  it  could 
not  be  said  that  any  sinner  ever  perished  as  a  con- 
sequence of  his  want  of  fidelity.     But  the  probabili- 

29* 


342  SERMON  XVIII. 

ties  are  great  that  he  shall  succeed  in  gaining  some,  if 
he  is  faithful  and  persevering  in  his  efforts.  Parents 
enjoy  greater  prospects  of  success.  If  they  are  faith- 
ful, earnest,  and  persevering  in  their  endeavors,  they 
are  almost  sure  of  ultimate  success.  Yet,  neither  the 
devout  and  faithful  minister  nor  the  pious  parent  can 
be  absolutely  certain  that  they  shall  have  success  in 
a  given  case.  It  may  be  that  they  shall  be  compelled, 
at  last,  to  look  on  the  object  of  their  solicitude  and 
say:  "Your  blood  be  upon  your  own  head:  I  am 
clean."  But  there  can  be  no  such  uncertainty  in 
respect  to  your  own  case.  The  parent  has  a  more 
complete  supervision  over  his  child  than  the  pastor 
has  over  an  individual  of  his  public  charge.  If  the 
parent  fail,  therefore,  through  his  own  unfaithfulness, 
it  is  a  more  awful  delinquency.  He  has  less  exposure 
to  failure.  He  has  better  advantages,  and  better 
prospects  of  success.  But  you  have  a  still  more  com- 
plete supervision  over  yourself  than  the  parent  haa 
over  his  child.  You  have  greater  probability  of  suc- 
cess not  merely  ;  you  are  certain  of  it,  if  you  will  do 
your  best  to  insure  it.  You  cannot,  under  any  possible 
circumstances,  stand  up  in  your  place  among  the  lost, 
and  shake  your  raiment  and  say,  I  am  clean  from  my 
own  blood.  On  the  contrary,  if  you  perish,  though 
others  may  have  contracted  guilt,  your  blood  will  be 
pre-eminently  on  your  own  head.  Let  the  admoni- 
tions, therefore,  that  are  contained  in  this  discourse 
come  home  to  the  bosoms  of  all ;  to  ministers  of  the 
cross,  to  parents,  to  unconverted  sinners.     The  souls 


FKEEDOM  FROM  SOUL-MURDER.  343 

of  men  cannot  perisli  without  involving  somebody  in 
the  guilt  of  soul-murder.  The  body  may  die  by  the 
operations  of  natural  law.  Its  dissolution  may  be  only 
a  blessing — the  taking  down  of  a  comparatively  in- 
commodious and  even  vile  tabernacle,  that  the  indwell- 
ing spirit  may  go  to  reside  in  heavenly  mansions;  but 
the  soul  cannot  die  but  by  an  unnatural  death ;  it  can 
perish  only  by  murder  and  suicide.  Take  heed  that 
its  blood  stain  not  your  garments.  Apply  to  Christ 
for  cleansing,  and  see  to  it  that,  through  his  atoning 
blood,  you  may  be  prepared  to  walk  with  him  in 
white. 


SERMON   XIX. 

THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH. 

VERILY,  VEKILY,  I  SAT  UXTO  TOU,  HE    THAT  BELIETETH  OX    ME  HATH 
EVERLASTING  LIFE. — Johll  VI.   47. 

True  piety  is  simple.  Yet  it  is  triform  in  its  mani- 
festations. It  develops  itself  in  faith,  prayer,  and 
labor.  There  is  a  remarkable  beauty  in  the  order 
and  connection  of  these  three  things.  They  are 
striking  and  yet  mysterious  in  their  individual  growth 
and  their  interaction.  They  are  like  physical  nature. 
A  living  seed  is  planted.  You  see  it.  But  what  is  it? 
This  is  a  great  question.  "VYe  do  not  know  what  it  is. 
But  we  know  that  it  is  a  germ  of  life.  Under  appro- 
priate influences  it  will  dilate,  and  a  stem  will  sprout 
forth  from  it.  It  will  develop  itself  more  and  more. 
It  will  put  forth  branches,  and  become  clothed  with 
a  beautiful  verdure.  The  final  cause  of  its  existence, 
however,  is  not  yet  apparent.  After  a  time  it  displays 
its  blossoms,  and  fills  the  air  with  fragrance.  Still, 
we  have  not  arrived  at  the  end  for  which  it  was  created. 
It  produces,  at  length,  an  abundance  of  nutritious 
fruit.  We  think  we  have  now  reached  the  final  cause. 
That  germ  with  its  peculiar  law  was  created  to  afi'ord 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  845 

sustenance  to  man.  Perhaps  so.  Sucli,  at  least,  was 
one  of  the  ends  of  infinite  wisdom  in  its  production. 
Other  objects,  however,  were  incidentally  achieved. 
Its  foliage  aftbrded  habitations,  and  play-grounds,  and 
solid  food,  and  sips  of  dew  for  millions  of  rejoicing  in- 
sects. Its  fragrance  breathed  a  delicious  pleasure  into 
the  faces  of  all  that  passed  by  in  the  season  of  its 
bloom.  Its  growth  called  forth  the  fostering  care  of 
some  human  being,  and  the  successive  stages  of  its 
development  aided  an  analogous  unfolding  of  the  quali- 
ties of  an  immortal  mind. 

It  is  even  so  with  the  germination,  the  growth,  the 
fruit-bearing  of  true  piety.  Faith  Is  the  primordial 
principle.  Prayer  sprouts  up  out  of  it  as  the  stalk 
from  the  seed,  and  active  beneficence  is  the  fruit. 
We  naturally  conclude  that  this  doing  good,  the  fruit 
of  piety,  is  the  end  for  which  the  germ  was  created. 
Perhaps  no  Christian  will  doubt  that  it  is  the  direct 
end.  Faith  most  naturally  flows  out  in  prayer  as  its 
first  objective  endeavor.  The  cry  of  its  infancy  is  : 
"  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  thou  my  unbelief."  Its  next 
effort  is  to  do  good.  Incidentally,  it  is  true,  other 
ends  are  achieved.  Faith,  as  the  conscious  throb  of 
spiritual  life,  is  itself  a  good,  an  enjoyment.  There  is 
"peace  in  believing."  Prayer,  too,  is  an  outflow  of 
happy  desire.  Supplication  is  tinged  with  the  light 
of  hope,  and  mixed  with  transports  of  gratitude  and 
praise ;  and  both  faith  and  prayer  act  delightfully  on 
others  as  examples  of  the  power  and  sweetness  of  pure 
religion.     Still,  this  is  the  right  line  of  progress: 


346  SERMON  XIX. 

FAITH,  PRAYER,  LABOR.  TliGSc  are  the  "  three  words 
of  a  believer,"  as  far  as  the  originating  and  on  work- 
ing of  pietj  are  concerned. 

Let  us  begin  at  the  beginning.  Faith  is  power. 
It  implies  simplicity  and  energy ;  and  simplicity  and 
energy  are  the  elements  of  power.  The  mind  is  un- 
divided in  its  action  when  it  is  trustful.  It  fixes  its 
regards  steadfastly  on  something  which  is  without.  In 
exercisino;  faith,  it  has  nothino;  in  it  of  the  nature  of 
listless  and  indolent  musing.  It  thinks.  It  does  not 
float  unresistingly  on  the  current  which  happens  to  be 
passing.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  in  a  state  of  exertion. 
It  may,  to  the  unthinking,  appear  passive  because  it 
is  quiet.  Yet  it  is  energetic  in  its  stillness.  Like  the 
rocky  cliff  which  forms  a  barrier  to  the  ocean  it  seems, 
sometimes,  to  do  nothing.  Yet,  mind  never  displays 
more  energy  than  in  standing  still.  You  see  this  in 
the  martyr,  when  the  powers  of  earth  and  hell  con- 
spire, in  vain,  to  remove  him  from  his  steadfastness. 
Frowns  and  threats  are  nothing  to  him.  Instruments 
of  torture,  though  they  rend  his  flesh,  disturb  not  his 
spirit.  While  the  fire  riots  upon  his  nerves,  and 
wreaths  of  smoke  ascend  from  his  consuming  frame, 
an  incense  that  fills  heaven  with  fragrance  arises  from 
the  holy  aspirings  of  his  spiritual  nature.  How  sub- 
limely, too,  is  the  same  power  of  faith  exhibited  in  a 
thousand  every  day  instances  of  calm  endurance ; 
instances  which,  though  in  comparison  with  the 
martyr's  sacrifice,  they  are  as  humble  as  the  contri- 
butions of  the  widow's  mite,  are,  like  the  giving  of 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  347 

tliat  mite,  manifestations  of  tlie  most  exalted  princi- 
ples. Faith  takes  its  tone  from  the  nature  of  its 
object.  It  always  has  an  object  outside  of  the  soul 
itself.  It  ever  rests  on  something  true  ;  something 
inspiring.  In  the  patriot,  that  object  is  his  country 
or  his  country's  interests,  represented  in  its  institu- 
tions, its  physical  features,  its  heroes.  In  the  man  of 
science,  it  is  nature  in  the  exactness  of  its  laws ;  the 
simplicity,  the  uniformity,  the  majesty  of  its  move- 
ments. In  the  Christian,  it  is  the  perfect  government 
of  God,  the  glorious  system  of  his  grace,  and  the  re- 
vealed eternal  results  of  both  in  a  scene  of  soul  trans- 
forming moral  beauty  ;  or,  more  philosophically  speak- 
ing, it  is  Christ,  the  great  author  and  upholder  of  that 
government,  the  fountain  of  that  grace,  and  the  ever- 
living  dispenser  of  immortal  blessedness.  There  is  a 
double  action  in  faith.  An  effect  is  produced  on  one 
when  he  becomes  a  believer.  He  also  exercises  an 
influence.  He  receives  something  in  believing.  A 
door  is  opened  on  that  side  of  his  nature  which  looks 
towards  the  object  of  faith.  Through  that  aperture, 
the  object  pours  in  its  influence,  as  the  sun  pours  its 
flood  of  light  into  a  window  opened  towards  it.  There 
are  openings,  also,  on  all  the  other  sides  of  his  nature. 
Through  each  of  fliese,  there  issues  a  copious,  far  reach- 
ing:  stream  of  influence;  a  stream  which  blesses  thou- 
sands  in  its  flow,  and  which  goes  sounding  on  as  a 
hymn  of  praise  through  eternity.  Faith  is  the  life- 
germ,  the  embryo  form  of  subjective  religion.  It 
exists  prior  to  all   those   things  which   are  reckoned 


348  SERMON  XIX. 

among  tlic  elements  of  active  pietj.  It  is  not  some- 
thing wliicli  may  exist  in  a  dead  form  until  it  has  been 
vitalized  by  prayer.  It  is  not  a  cold  principle  that  is 
to  be  warmed  into  energy  by  active  labor.  On  the 
contrary,  faith  imparts  all  the  value  to  prayer  and  out- 
ward acts  of  obedience  which  either  of  them  possesses. 
Without  faith,  prayer  is  vain  babbling ;  without  faith, 
acts  of  obedience  are,  at  the  best,  only  as  motions  of 
an  automaton. 

With  these  general  views  of  faith,  it  becomes  of  the 
highest  consequence  to  understand  the  precise  nature 
of  that  faith  which  the  gospel  demands.  To  render 
the  description  full  and  perfectly  intelligible,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  make  a  complete  analysis,  and  to  expand 
and  illustrate  all  the  parts  of  the  subject.  The  fol- 
lowing points,  then,  must  be  separately  and  carefully 
considered. 

1.  Faith  must  be  distinguished  as  objective  and 
subjective. 

2.  Faith  implies  belief,  but  includes  more  than 
belief. 

3.  Faith  has  respect  to  two  things;  to  a  truth 
believed,  and  a  person  on  whose  testimony  it  is  be- 
lieved. 

Faith,  then,  has  two  elements,  an  affectionate  trust 
in  a  personal  being  as  worthy  of  confidence,  and  belief 
resulting  from  that  trust.  Faith  may  be  genuine  when 
it  has  respect  only  to  an  earthly  friend.  Faith  may 
be  genuine,  and  have  respect  to  Christ,  and  yet  be 
radically  defective.     Evangelical  faith  implies  a  trust- 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  349 

ing  in  Christ  in  Lis  true  character  as  the  glorious  Mes- 
siah. Evangelical  faith  is  faith  in  its  highest  direction ; 
trust  in  Christ  as  worthy  of  supreme  confidence.  When 
these  points  have  been  separately  examined,  they  will 
be  better  understood  in  their  connections  as  leading  to 
a  single  result ;  a  just  and  comprehensive  view  of  the 
nature  of  that  faith  which  the  gospel  enjoins. 

For  the  sake  of  clearness,  let  us  in  the  first  place 
distinguish  faith  as  objectively  and  subjectively  con- 
sidered. The  term  is  employed  to  denote  the  credenda 
of  Christianity,  or  the  things  which  the  gospel  requires 
us  to  believe.  Felix  heard  Paul,  concerning  the  faith 
of  Christ ;  that  is  to  say,  he  heard  him  discourse  re- 
specting those  great  Christian  doctrines  which  must  be 
believed  in  order  to  one's  becoming  a  true  disciple  of 
Jesus.  Thus,  also,  Paul  is  represented  as  preaching 
the  faith  which  he  had  once  destroyed.  The  meaning 
is  sufficiently  obvious.  He  endeavored  by  argument 
to  substantiate  the  truth  of  those  principles  which  he 
had  formerly  opposed. 

The  word  faith  is  also  employed  to  denote  an  affec- 
tion of  the  mind,  an  interior  sentiment.  Such  passages 
as  the  following  indicate  this  use  of  the  term :  ''  0 
woman,  great  is  thy  faith  ;"  the  apostles  said  unto  the 
Lord,  "Increase  our  faith;"  Barnabas  ''was  a  good 
man,  and  full  of  the  IJoly  Ghost,  and  of  faith."  "  Je- 
sus said  unto  them  (his  disciples) :  Have  faith  in  God." 
Many  subdivisions  may  be  made  under  this  twofold 
designation;  but  they  will  all  be  found  to  belong 
to  one  or  the 'other  of  these  departments:  to  faith 
30 


350  SERMON  XIX. 

objectively  considered,  or  the  things  lying  outside  of 
the  mind — the  things  to  be  believed ;  or  to  subjec- 
tive belief,  a  peculiar  mental  state  designated  by  the 
same  word  faith.  In  this  discussion,  we  have  to  do 
with  faith  only  as  an  interior  sentiment;  an  exercise 
of  the  inner  man.  But  what  is  faith  ?  What  is  the 
precise  form  of  this  interior  sentiment?  The  question 
can  be  answered.  The  answer  can  be  made  intelligible 
to  such  as  will  consent  to  think  patiently  of  the  sepa- 
rate elements  of  the  idea.  Faith  implies  belief.  You 
believe  that  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow.  You  do  not 
know  that  it  will.  But  you  act  on  your  belief  with  as 
much  confidence  as  if  you  were  inspired  by  the  intui- 
tions of  perfect  science.  The  belief  that  the  sun  will 
rise  to-morrow  is  a  totally  different  state  of  mind  from 
the  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  the  sun  did  rise  this 
morning.  For  all  practical  purposes,  your  convic- 
tions are  equally  valuable ;  are  alike  certain.  Yet  the 
grounds  of  them  are  different.  One  is  knowledge  ;  the 
other  is  belief.  This  belief,  this  settled  conviction  of 
the  mind,  with  regard  to  the  truth  of  a  given  proposi- 
tion, is  implied  in  faith.  But,  while  belief  is  implied 
in  faith,  and  while  the  words  faith  and  belief  are  often, 
in  common  parlance,  used  synonymously,  faith,  as  a 
Christian  grace,  is  the  more  comprehensive  term.  It 
includes  belief,  but  it  means  more  than  belief.  Re- 
pentance, as  a  feeling  of  the  mind,  has  respect  to  two 
objects ;  a  person  and  a  thing.  It  has  a  relation  to 
the  sin  committed,  and  to  the  person  against  whom 
the  wrong  was  done.     So  faith  has  respect  to  two  ob- 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  351 

jects  ;  to  the  thing  believed,  and  to  the  person  on  whose 
testimony  and  character  that  belief  reposes.  This 
thought  may  be  happily  elucidated  by  instances.  When 
Saul  and  Jonathan  fell  in  the  great  battle  betAveen  Israel 
and  the  Philistines,  the  first  intelligence  of  the  sad  dis- 
asters of  that  day  reached  David  through  a  young  man 
who  had  fled  from  the  scene  of  carnage.  This  youth 
informed  him  of  the  entire  rout  of  the  army,  and  also 
of  the  death  of  Saul  and  Jonathan.  Nothing  was 
more  probable  to  the  mind  of  the  persecuted  son-in- 
law  of  the  monarch  than  that  such  a  discomfiture  had 
taken  place.  He  knew  that  God  had  withdrawn  his 
favor  from  Saul.  But  his  informant  was  a  stranger. 
He  proceeded,  therefore,  to  question  him.  He  "  said 
unto  the  young  man  that  told  him.  How  knowest 
thou  that  Saul  and  Jonathan  his  son  be  dead  ?  And 
the  young  man  that  told  him  said,  As  I  happened  by 
chance  upon  mount  Gilboa,  behold,  Saul  leaned  upon 
his  spear ;  and,  lo,  the  chariots  and  horsemen  followed 
hard  after  him.  And  when  he  looked  behind  him,  he 
saw  me,  and  called  unto  me:  and  I  answered.  Here 
am  I.  And  he  said  unto  me.  Who  art  thou  ?  And  I 
answered  him,  I  am  an  Amalekite.  He  said  unto  me 
again.  Stand,  I  pray  thee,  upon  me,  and  slay  me ;  for 
anguish  is  come  upon  me,  because  my  life  is  yet  whole 
in  me.  So  I  stood  upon  him,  and  slew  him,  because  I 
was  sure  that  he  could  not  live  after  that  he  was  fallen  : 
and  I  took  the  crown  that  was  upon  his  head,  and  the 
bracelet  that  was  on  his  arm,  and  have  brought  them 
hither  unto  my  lord. ' '  David  believed  this  story,  though 


352  SERMON  XIX. 

he  certainly  had  no  confidence  in  the  man.  It  was, 
in  itself,  probable  that  the  army  should  have  been  cut 
to  pieces.  God  had  forsaken  the  haughty  king.  If 
the  fortune  of  the  day  had  gone  against  Israel,  it  was 
more  than  likely  that  Saul  and  Jonathan  were  slain. 
As  warriors,  they  were  not  accustomed  to  turn  back  in 
the  day  of  battle.  Their  known  bravery  would  greatly 
expose  them  to  death  in  case  of  defeat.  The  well- 
known  crown  and  bracelet  lent  confirmation  strong  to 
the  report  that  the  beauty  of  Israel  had  been  slain 
upon  the  high  places.  Yet  there  was  one  circum- 
stance in  the  narrative  that  seemed  incredible.  It 
could  scarcely  be  believed  that  one  of  Saul's  own  men 
could  have  possessed  the  hardihood  to  dispatch  the 
fallen  monarch,  even  at  his  own  request.  Hence  Da- 
vid distrustfully  questioned  the  young  man  further, 
and  said  to  him:  ''Whence  art  thou?"  And  he  an- 
swered: "I  am  the  son  of  a  stranger,  an  Amalekite." 
This  confession  removes  his  doubts.  He  believes  that 
Saul  and  Jonathan  are  slain.  Here  was  belief,  but  it 
did  not  rest  upon  confidence  in  the  witness.  It  was 
not  faith  in  the  young  Amalekite,  though  he  did  be- 
lieve his  story  as  being  substantially  true.  He  be- 
lieved it,  not  from  reposing  confidence  in  the  man,  but 
from  the  force  of  the  circumstances.  Now  contrast 
with  this  the  faith  of  the  Israelites,  when  it  was  pre- 
dicted that  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram,  were  about 
to  be  destroyed  by  the  Divine  judgment.  Moses  "  spake 
unto  the  congregation,  saying,  Depart,  I  pray  you,  from 
the  tents  of  these  wicked  men,  and  touch  nothing;  of 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  353 

theirs,  lest  ye  be  consumed  in  all  their  sins.  So 
they  gat  up  from  the  tabernacle  of  Korah,  Dathan, 
and  Abiram,  on  every  side."  Here  was  faith  in  the 
general  sense  in  which  the  word  is  employed,  when  it  is 
used  to  describe  a  Christian  grace.  The  congregation 
believed  that  the  threatened  judgment  would  be  in- 
flicted. They  believed  this  fact  on  account  of  their 
confidence  in  him  who  predicted  it.  They  had  faith 
in  Moses.  David  believed  the  facts  related  by  the 
young  Amalekite,  but  he  had  no  such  faith  in  the  man 
as  the  Israelites  reposed  in  Moses. 

This  thought  possesses  another  shade  and  demands 
further  elucidation.  Belief  sometimes  has  respect 
both  to  a  person  and  a  thing ;  and  yet  derives  force 
from  the  depravity,  the  untrustworthiness,  of  the  wit- 
ness. To  render  this  perfectly  clear,  a  different  and 
somewhat  extended  instance  is  needful — let  it  be  a 
supposed  one  :  A  wandering  prodigal  is  reduced  to 
the  deepest  distress  ;  he  approaches  a  wealthy  but 
hardhearted  man,  soliciting  relief;  assistance  is  coldly 
refused.  Pressed  by  his  necessity,  the  poor  beggar 
goes  again,  hoping  that  his  miseries  may  excite  pity 
and  secure  the  needed  aid.  He  is  driven  from  the 
rich  man's  door,  with  the  threat  that,  if  he  is  ever 
seen  there  again,  he  will  inflict  on  him  summary  chas- 
tisement. He  now  receives  an  afi'ectionate  invitation 
from  his  father  to  return  to  the  paternal  mansion, 
with  the  assurance  that  every  possible  provision  is 
made  for  his  comfort.  He  believes  both.  He  is  re- 
pelled from  the  miser's  door  by  the  belief  that,  if  he 

30* 


354  SERMON  XIX. 

returns,  he  shall  meet  with  personal  chastisement.  He 
is  attracted  to  the  home  of  his  childhood  by  the  be- 
lief that  all  his  father's  promises  are  true.  He  believes 
equally  the  promises  of  the  one,  and  the  threats  of 
the  other.  His  belief,  also,  in  both  cases,  arises  from 
the  testimony  of  the  parties.  Is  each  state  of  mind 
alike  properly  denominated  faith  ?  By  no  means. 
When  he  is  repelled  from  the  rich  man's  door,  in  this 
instance,  he  cannot  be  said  to  be  actuated  by  faith. 
He  believes,  it  is  true,  that  the  man  is  cruel,  that  he 
"will  exercise  that  cruelty  again,  if  an  opportunity 
offers.  Yet  he  has  no  faith  in  him.  If  the  same  un- 
feeling man  should  ask  the  prodigal  to  repose  confi- 
dence in  him,  to  put  himself  entirely  in  his  power, 
with  a  promise  that  he  would  take  care  of  all  his  in- 
terests, he  would  not  do  it.  He  would  distrust  him. 
If,  then,  he  should  inquire  more  fully  into  that  rich 
man's  character,  and  should  learn  that  others  have  in- 
trusted themselves  to  him,  and  had,  of  a  consequence, 
been  reduced  to  the  most  cruel  bondage,  he  would  only 
distrust  him  more  and  more.  He  would  now  believe, 
more  strongly  than  ever,  that,  if  he  should  go  to  him 
for  alms,  he  would  only  meet  with  abuse,  perhaps  with 
perpetual  slavery.  Do  you  not  see,  now,  that  the 
more  fully  this  poor  prodigal  believes  what  that  man 
told  him  in  hi"'  threat,  the  more  he  must  distrust  him? 
Yes,  the  more  he  believes  what  the  cruel  miser  says 
the  less  faith  he  has  in  him.  He  does  not  incline  to  him 
by  anything  like  a  generous  confidence.  Bat,  let  this 
same  prodigal  commence  his  journey  homeward.     The 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  355 

nearer  he  approaches  the  paternal  mansion,  and  the 
more  he  reflects  on  his  father's  character,  the  greater 
does  his  confidence  become.  He  reads  the  letter 
which  first  awakened  his  confidence.  He  marks  one 
item  of  the  specified  benefits  intended  to  greet  his  re- 
turn, and  then  another,  and  another.  It  seems,  al- 
most, as  if  the  promises  contained  in  the  communi- 
cation were  too  good  to  be  true.  He  can  scarcely 
believe  for  joy.  But  he  does  believe  that  they  will 
every  one  be  fulfilled,  because  he  confides  in  his  fa- 
ther's power  and  goodness.  As  he  dwells  more  on 
that  father's  character,  the  specific  promises  grow 
less  and  less  important  in  his  esteem.  A  general 
filial  confidence  makes  him  satisfied  with  the  bare 
fact  that  he  is  soon  to  meet  his  father.  Owned  as  a 
child  by  such  a  parent,  he  knows  that  everything 
will  be  right.  A  general  confidence  in  him  leads 
him  joyfully  to  commit  himself  to  his  paternal  coun- 
sel and  care.  This  is  faith.  A  belief  in  the  truth 
of  the  specific  declarations  and  promises  is  im- 
plied; but  more  than  this  is  included  in  the  whole 
mental  state  referred  to.  There  is  a  confidence 
reposed  in  that  father.  What  he  has  said  is  believed 
not  only,  but  also  his  character,  his  personal  being, 
has  become  to  his  child  an  object  of  loving  trust. 
Faith,  then,  as  an  inner  sentiment,  consists  of  these 
two  elements — an  affectionate  trust  in  a  personal 
being,  as  worthy  of  confidence,  and  a  belief  of  facts, 
as  associated  with  it.  These  two  elements  always  ex- 
ist together,  and  act  upon  each  other,  where  there  is 


356  SERMON  XIX. 

true  faith.  One  cannot  be  said  to  be  the  cause  of  the 
other.  They  are  strictly  concomitant.  Yet,  in  the 
generation  and  growth  of  faith,  they  act  unequally. 
Belief  of  facts  and  principles  sometimes  exercises  a 
leading  influence,  and  confidence  in  the  personal 
being  is  sometimes  ascendant.  But,  whenever  they 
act  upon  each  other  reciprocally,  they  augment  the 
power  of  the  whole  complex  sentiment.  These  two 
elements  may  be  termed  the  body  and  soul  of  faith. 
Trust  in  a  worthy  personal  being,  is  the  life  and  soul ; 
the  virtuous  element.  Belief  is  the  form  wiiich  this 
confidence  inhabits.  Belief  may  exist  without  one 
particle  of  this  Divine  life — this  vital  power.  But, 
this  life-element  of  faith  cannot  exist  without  belief. 
The  devils  believe ;  are  persuaded  of  indubitable 
truths;  but  they  have  none  of  the  life  of  faith. 
Christians,  on  the  contrary,  repose  trust  in  their  Di- 
vine Saviour,  and  this  confidence  in  him  is  indissolu- 
bly  connected  with  the  most  implicit  belief  in  what 
he  has  said. 

Another  point  demands  especial  attention,  in  order 
to  a  clear  idea  of  faith  as  a  Christian  grace.  It  may 
be  briefly  denominated  the  extent  of  evangelical  faith. 
But  explanation  is  necessary.  An  incident  m.  New 
Testament  history  may  be  employed  to  unfold  the  idea, 
and  to  render  it  intelligible.  In  the  preparation  for 
the  last  passover,  our  Lord  told  his  disciples  to  go  into 
the  city,  and  that  a  man  should  meet  them,  bearing  a 
pitcher  of  water.  He  directed  them  to  address  that 
man,  and  informed  them  that  he  would  make  all  need- 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  357 

ful  preparations.  They  believed  all  this.  They  be- 
lieved it  on  Christ's  statement  alone.  He  had,  often 
before,  predicted  coming  events.  He  had  never  once 
deceived  them.  Anybody  acquainted  with  the  history 
of  our  Saviour  would  have  believed  him.  Judas  would 
have  believed  him.  This  was  faith,  to  a  certain  extent. 
It  was  genuine.  But  it  was  not  sufficiently  extended 
to  meet  the  demand,  where  it  is  said:  " Believe  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  Such 
an  injunction  requires,  not  merely  a  trust  in  the  Lord 
Jesus,  such  as  will  secure  a  belief  that  some  one  thing 
which  he  has  stated  is  true ;  it  demands  confidence 
in  him  in  his  whole  revealed  character.  It  requires 
us  to  repose  trust  in  him  as  the  true  Messiah;  to  make 
him  the  object  of  our  supreme  confidence. 

This  view  of  the  nature  of  evangelical  faith  may  be 
completed  by  comparing  the  manner  in  which  the 
apostle  Paul  enjoined  repentance  and  faith.  He  said, 
in  his  address  to  the  elders  of  the  church  at  Ephesus, 
that  his  former  labors  among  them  had  been  charac- 
terized by  ''  testifying  both  to  the  Jews,  and  also  to 
the  Greeks,  repentance  towards  God,  and  faith  towards 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  What  was  the  object  of  the 
apostle  in  this  testimony  ?  Of  course,  it  was  to  secure 
the  exercise  of  faith  and  repentance.  He  spoke  of 
each  of  these  dispositions  in  their  evangelical  sense. 
Hence,  he  characterized  each  by  the  person  towards 
whom  it  was  to  be  exercised.  The  repentance,  to  pre- 
serve the  peculiar  force  of  the  Greek  text,  was  a  "to- 
wards God"  repentance.     The  faith  was  a  "towards 


358  SERMON  XIX. 

Christ"  faith.  That  is  to  say,  each  disposition  had  its 
most  exalted  direction.  Repentance  could  not  be  ex- 
ercised towards  a  higher  person  that  had  been  sinned 
against.  Repentance  towards  God  was  a  higher  grace 
than  it  could  be  when  exercised  towards  any  other 
being.  So  faith,  when  exercised  towards  Christ,  can 
have  no  higher  direction.  There  is  no  personal  being 
in  the  universe  more  worthy  of  confidence,  or  worthy 
of  a  higher  degree  of  confidence,  than  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  But  why  did  the  apostle  make  this  distinction 
in  the  personal  objects  of  these  dispositions  ?  Might 
he  not  have  said,  repentance  towards  God,  and  faith 
towards  God  ?  May  we  not  exercise  confidence  in  God 
as  well  as  repentance  towards  God  ?  Undoubtedly  we 
may.  Our  Saviour  himself  said  to  his  disciples,  "  Have 
faith  in  God."  Might  he  not  also  have  said,  repent- 
ance towards  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  well  as 
faith  towards  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  May  wx  not 
repent  of  our  sins  towards  our  blessed  Redeemer,  as 
well  as  put  our  trust  in  him?  Doubtless  we  may. 
When  Jesus  turned  and  looked  upon  Peter,  "  he  went 
out  and  wept  bitterly."  Those  tears  were  tears  of 
repentance,  repentance  towards  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Yet,  it  is  obvious  that  the  style  of  this  passage  had  not 
so  well  accorded  with  the  nature  of  the  Christian  sys- 
tem, if  the  persons  had  been  reversed.  If  he  had  said, 
"  testifying"  faith  toAvards  God,  and  repentance  to- 
wards our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  it  had  sounded  strangely, 
and  not  in  keeping  with  the  whole  tone  of  gospel  teach- 
ing.    It  is  not  difficult  to  discover  a  reason  for  this. 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  359 

God  was  first  revealed  as  a  Lawgiver  and  Judge.  We 
were  involved  in  guilt  in  this  relation,  previously  to 
the  revelation  of  a  Saviour.  It  is  from  our  sins  against 
this  Lawgiver  and  Judge  that  Christ  came  to  save  us. 
He  came  to  lead  us  to  repentance  for  our  sins  against 
God.  To  do  this  work  successfully,  and  to  secure  our 
pardon,  he  must  needs  have  our  confidence.  The  mind 
more  readily  discovers  guilt  in  the  direct  contempla- 
tion of  the  lawgiver,  because  "  sin  is  the  transgression 
of  the  law."  Hence,  repentance  more  naturally  and 
primarily  flows  out  towards  God  in  this  relation.  On 
the  other  hand,  Christ  is  a  personal  manifestation  of 
God,  in  the  exercise  of  his  mercy  and  grace.  Hence 
faith  naturally  and  primarily  flows  forth  towards 
Christ. 

How  beautiful  and  powerful  is  this  faith  in  its  inner 
working.  It  is  not  an  external  gift.  God  does  not 
make  something  and  impart  it  to  the  soul  as  the  reward 
for  previous  obedience.  He  does  not  bring  it  to  us  as 
parents  bring  holiday  gifts  to  their  children.  He  does 
not  produce  the  objects  of  faith.  No  new  domains  are 
created  and  covered  with  verdure,  and  adorned  with 
villas  and  palaces,  and  then  given  to  the  soul  as  a  pro- 
mised possession.  The  efi'ect  is  produced  only  in  the 
mind  itself.  External  objects  become  the  soul's  trea- 
sure, not  by  creation,  but  only  by  discovery.  The 
communication  of  faith  is  analogous,  in  this  respect, 
to  unsealing  the  eyes  of  one  born  blind.  To  such  an 
one,  the  flowery  gardens,  and  wooded  lanes,  and  green 
fields,  and  golden  harvests,  and  lowing  kine,  and  tune- 


360  SERMON  XIX. 

ful  birds,  and  groups  of  happy  children,  present  a  new 
scene  of  beauty.  But  they  existed  before.  He  had 
even  heard  of  them.  The  light  too  which  now  reveals 
them  had  been  every  day  poured  over  them  before  his 
eyes  were  opened,  just  as  it  is  at  present.  Yet,  by  a 
change  in  himself,  these  objects  become  to  him  as  a  new 
creation.  They  existed  but  were  not  seen  till  a  change 
in  himself  brought  them,  in  all  their  reality,  full  upon 
his  vision.  This  change  effects  a  permanent  change 
in  the  believer's  relations.  He  takes  a  filial  attitude, 
and  God  becomes  his  father.  He  assumes  a  fraternal 
position  towards  Christ  and  his  disciples ;  and  Christ 
and  all  his  disciples  become  his  brethren.  Standing 
on  Calvary,  he  looks  abroad  with  Jesus,  and  yearns  for 
the  well-being  of  universal  humanity.  Yet  this  inte- 
rior work  of  faith  is  small,  at  first.  It  is  only  as  a 
grain  of  mustard  seed.  But  it  grows.  Or,  to  take 
another  of  our  Saviour's  beautiful  images,  it  is  an  irri- 
gating fountain.  Christ  gives  the  believing  soul  to 
drink.  It  thence  becomes  a  living  spring ;  a  well  of 
water  in  him,  gushing  and  springing  up  into  everlasting 
life.  It  becomes,  also,  more  copious  as  it  flows,  and 
gradually  extends  its  influence  over  all  the  domains  of 
the  understanding,  the  conscience,  and  the  heart.  At 
first,  it  is  as  if  a  slender  rill  had  quickened  into  life  a 
narrow  strip  of  verdure  upon  its  margin.  Thence,  as 
the  stream  swells  in  volume,  the  moisture  penetrates 
to  a  greater  distance,  and  the  fertile  portion  is  ex- 
panded. As  the  wideness  of  the  verdant  vale  is  still 
enlarged,  the  ratio  of  increase  is  augmented,  till,  anon, 


THE  NATURE  OF  FAITH.  361 

every  unreclaimed  waste  of  the  soul  becomes  a  perfect 
garden  of  fruits  and  flowers.  Who,  then,  would  not 
participate  in  the  faith  of  Christ  ?  Its  inner  workings 
are  satisfying.  The  principal  object  upon  which  faith 
rests  is  perfectly  glorious.  The  soul  can  desire  nothing 
purer,  nothing  more  exalted.  Christ,  his  holy  character 
and  work,  and  the  principles  and  results  of  his  mission, 
constitute  a  perfect  scene  of  moral  beauty.  The  soul 
that  drinks  in  the  impressions  of  such  an  object  with 
such  an  environment,  shall  never  thirst.  He  that  feeds 
upon  such  food  shall  never  hunger.  He  that  believeth 
on  Christ  ''hath  everlasting  life." 


THE  END. 


31 


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THOS.  M'AULEY,  D.  D.,  «  ..  «  -  - 

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Rev.  J.  M.  M'KREBS,  "  Presbyterian      "  «  • 

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Rev.  J.  S.  SPENCER,  «  a  a  Brooklyn. 

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JOHN  M'DOWELL,  D.  D.,  Permanent  "  " 

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GEORGE  E.  PIERCE,  D.  D.,  "  Western  Reserve  College,  Ohio. 

Rev.  Dr.  BROWN,  "  Jefferson  College,  Penn. 

LEONARD  WOODS,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Theology,  Aadover  Seminary. 

THOS.  14.  SKINNER,  D.  D.,        "  Sac.  Rhel.        " 

Rev.  RALPH  EMERSON,  »  Eccl.  Hist. 

Rev.  JOEL  PARKER,  Pastor  of  Presbyterian  Church,  New  Orleans. 

JOEL  HAWES,  D.  D.,      "       .   Congregational  Church,  Hartford,  Conn. 

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MARK  TUCKER,  D.  D., "  "  u  «        « 

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Rev.  E.  B.  EDWARDS,  Editor  of  Quarterly  Observer. 

Rev.  STEPHEN  MASON,  Pa-stor  First  Congregational  Church.  Nantucket. 

Rev,  ORIN  FOWLER,  «         "  «  ..        pall  River. 

GEORGE  W.  BETHUNE,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  First  Reformed  Dutch  Church,  Plulaila. 

Rev.  LYMAN  BEECHKR,  D.  D.,  Cinciimnti,  Ohio. 

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A  new,  full,  and  complete  Concordance ;  illustrat»>d  with  monumental,  traditional,  and  oriental 
engravings,  founded  on  Butterworth's,  with  Cruden's  definitions  ;  forming,  it  is  believed,  on  many 
accounts,  a  more  valuable  work  thaii  either  Butterwortti,  Cruden,  or  any  other  similar  book  inUhe 
language. 

The  value  of  a  Concordance  is  now  generally  understood ;  and  those  who  have  used  one,  con- 
sider it  indispensable  in  connection  with  the  Bible.  Some  of  the  many  lulvantage.^  the  Illustrated 
Concerdanc*  has  over  all  the  others,  are,  that  it  oont.-uiis  near  two  hundred  appropriate  engravings  : 
it  is  pnnted  on  fine  white  paper,  with  beautiful  large  typo. 

Price  One  Dollar. 
4 


LIPPINCOTT,  QRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
LIFPINCOTT'S  EDITION  OF 

BAGSTER'S  COMPREHENSIVE  BIBLE. 

In  order  to  develope  the  peculiar  luiture  of  the  Ct)nipreheiisive  Bible,  it  will  only  be  necessary 
to  embrace  its  aiore  prominent  features. 

1st.  The  SACRED  TEXT  is  that  of  the  Authonzed  Version,  and  is  printed  from  the  edition  cor- 
rected and  improved  by- Dr.  Blaiiey,  which,  from  its  accuracy,  is  considered  the  standard  edition. 

ai.  The  VARIOUS  READINGS  are  faithfully  printed  from  the  edition  of  Dr.  Blauey,  inclusive 
of  the  translation  of  the  proper  names,  without  the  addition  or  dmiinulion  of  one. 

3d.  In  the  CHRONOLOGY,  great  care  has  been  taken  to  fix  the  date  of  the  particular  transac- 
tions, which  has  seldom  been  done  with  any  degree  of  exactness  in  any  former  edition  of  the  Bible. 

4th.  The  NOTES  are  exclusively  philoloRical  and  explanatory,  and  are  not  tinctured  witli  senti- 
ments of  any  sect  or  party.  They  are  selected  from  the  must  eminent  Biblical  critics  and  com- 
mentators. 

It  is  hoped  that  this  edition  of  ttie  Holy  Bible  will  be  found  to  contain  the  essence  of  Biblical 
research  and  criticism,  that  lies  dispersed  throuf^h  an  immense  number  of  volumes. 

Such  is  the  nature  and  design  of  this  edition  of  the  Sacred  Volume,  winch,  from  the  various 
objects  it  embraces,  the  freedom  of  its  pages  from  all  sectarian  peculiarities,  and  the  beauty,  plaiu- 
aess,  and  correctness  of  the  typography,  that  it  cannot  fail  of  proving  acceptable  and  useful  to 
Christians  of  every  denomination. 

In  addition  to  the  usual  references  to  parallel  passages,  which  are  quite  full  and  numerous,  the 
student  has  all  the  marginal  readings,  together  with  a  rich  selection  of  Philological,  Critical,  Histo- 
rical, Geographical,  and  other  valuable  notes  and  remarks,  which  explain  and  illustrate  the  sacred 
text.  Besides  the  general  introduction,  containing  valuable  essays  on  the  genuineness,  authenticity, 
and  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  other  topics  of  interest,  there  are  introductory  and  con- 
cluding remarks  to  each  book — a  table  of  the  contents  of  the  Bible,  by  which  the  diiTerent  portions 
are  so  arranged  as  to  read  in  an  historical  order. 

Arranged  at  the  top  of  each  page  is  the  period  in  which  the  prominent  events  of  sacred  history 
took  place.  The  calculations  are  made  for  the  year  i>f  the  world  before  and  after  Christ,  Julian 
Period,  the  year  of  the  Olympiad,  the  year  of  the  building  of  Rome,  and  other  notations  of  time. 
At  the  close  is  inserted  a  Chronological  Index  of  the  Bible,  according  to  the  computation  of  Arch- 
bishop Ussher.  Also,  a  full  and  valuable  index  of  the  sulyjects  contained  in  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments, with  a  careful  analysis  and  arrangement  of  texts  under  their  appropriate  subjects. 

Mr.  Greenfield,  the  editor  of  this  work,  and  for  some  time  previous  to  his  death  the  superintend- 
ent of  the  editorial  department  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  was  a  most  extraordinary 
man.  In  editing  the  Comprehensive  Bible,  his  varied  and  extensive  learning  was  called  into  suc- 
cessful exercise,  and  appears  in  happy  combination  with  sincere  piety  and  a  sound  judgment.  The 
Editor  of  the  Christian  Observer,  alluding  to  this  work,  in  an  obituary  notice  of  its  author,  speaks 
of  it  as  a  work  of  "  prodigious  labour  and  research,  at  once  exhibiting  his  varied  talents  and  pro- 
found erudition." 


LIFPINCOTT'S  EDITION  OF 

THE  OXFORD  QUARTO  BIBLE. 

Tlie  Pul)lishers  have  spared  neither  care  nor  expen.se  in  their  edition  of  the  Bible;  it  is  printed 
tn  the  finest  white  vellum  paper,  with  large  and  Iteaiitiful  type,  and  bound  in  the  most  substantial 
and  splsndid  manner,  in  the  following  styles:  Velvet,  with  richly  gilt  ornaments;  Toikey  super 
extra,  with  gilt  clasps;  and  in  numerous  others,  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  most  fastidious. 

OPINIONS    OF   THE    PRESS. 

"In  our  opinion,  the  Christian  public  generally  will  feel  under  great  obligations  to  the  puhlishera 
of  this  work  for  the  beautiful  tasie,  arran,i,'eiiieril,  and  delicate  neatness  with  wluch  they  have  got 
it  out.  The  intrinsic  merit  of  the  Riliio  reronnnends  it.self ;  it  need.s  no  tinsel  oniaineiit  to  atlorn 
its  sacred  pages.  In  tins  edition  every  sojiertlnous  ornament  has  been  avoided,  and  we  have  pre- 
sented us  a  perfectly  chaste  specimen  of  the  Bilile,  without  note  or  comment.  It  appears  to  be  just 
what  is  needed  in  every  family — 'the  unsophisi icalcd  word  of  (iod.' 

"The  size  is  quarto,  printed  with  beautiful  type,  on  white,  .^iized  vellum  paper,  of  the  finest  texture 
and  most  beautiful  surl'ace.  The  pubhsljers  seejn  to  have  been  solicitous  to  make  a  perfectly 
unique  book,  and  they  liave  accomplished  the  object  very  successfully.  We  trust  that  a  liberal 
conimuiiity  will  afford  them  ample  remniiprntKin  for  uU  the  expense  and  outlay  they  have  necussor- 
rily  incurred  in  its  publication.     It  is  a  sttmdurd  Bible. 

"The  puhlisliers  are  Messrs.  Lippincolt,  Grambo  i  Co.,  No.  14  North  Fourth  street,  Philadel- 
phia."—  B^jptisl  Record. 

"A  Deantiful  quarto  edition  of  the  Bible,  by  L.,  G.  Si  Co.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  type  in  clear 
ness  and  beauty;  tiie  paper  is  of  the  linest  texture,  and  the  whole  execution  is  exceedingly  neat 
No  illustrations  or  oniamenlal  type  are  used.  Those  who  preler  a  Bible  executed  in  perfect  sim- 
plicity, yet  ftlesraiice  of  style,  without  adornment,  will  prububly  never  fmd  one  more  to  tlwir  tast«  " 
-*  M    Ma^jdzine. 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
LIPPINCOTT'S  EDITIONS  OF 

^  THE   HOLY   BIBLE. 

SIX   DIFFERENT  SIZES. 

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Baxter's  Comprehensive  Bible, 

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book;  philological  and  explanatory  notes  ;  table  ol  contents,  arranged  in  historical  order;  a  chro- 
nological index,  and  various  other  matter ;  forming  a  suitable  book  for  tbe  study  of  clergymen, 
Sabbath-school  teachers,  and  students. 

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CONSTANTLY   ON   HAND, 
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A  liberal  discount  made  to  Booksellers  and  Agents  by  the  Publishers. 

ENCYCLOP/EDIA  OF  RELIGIOUS  KNOWLEDGE; 

«)R,  DICTIONARY  OF  THE  BIBLE,  THEOLOGY,  RELIGIOU.S  BIOGRAPHY,  ALL  RELIGIONS, 
ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY,  AND  MISSIONS. 
Designed  as  a  complete  Book  of  Reference  on  all  Religious  Subjects,  and  Companion  to  the  Bible ; 
lormmg  a  cheap  and  compact  Library  of  Religious  Knowledge.  Edited  by  Rev.  J.  Newton  Brown. 
Illustrated  by  wooddils,  niajis,  and  engravings  on  copper  and  steel.  In  one  volume,  royal  8vo. 
Pnre.  $1  00. 


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Tli8  Errors  of  Modern  Infidelity  Illustrated  and  Refuted. 

BY  S.  IVI.  SCHiVrUCKER,  A.  IW. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. ;  cloth.     Just  published. 

We  cannot  but  regard  Miis  work,  in  whatever  li?lit  we  view  it  in  reference  to  its  design,  as  one 
of  the  most  ma.sterly  productions  of  the  asre.  and  fitted  to  npro(jt  one  of  tlie  most  fondly  cherished 
and  daneerous  of  all  ancient  or  modern  errors,  ('od  must  hlpss  .such  a  work,  armed  with  his  own 
truth,  and  doing  fierce  and  successful  ballle  against  black  iufidi-hty,  winch  won!;!  biiiif,'  His  Majpsly 
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7 


LIPPINCOTT,  ORAMUO  &  GO'S  I'UBLICATIONS. 

€\)t  Clrrgi)  of  Siutrira: 

CONSISTING    OF 

ANECDOTES   ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  OF  MINISTERS  OF  RELI- 
GION IN  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

BY    JOSEPH   BELCHER,    D.D., 
E<litor  of  "The  Complete  Works  of  Andrew  Fuller,"  "Robert  Hall,"  &.c. 

"Tins  very  interestlne  anil  ii)str»irtive  ro'liJcMon  of  plpasin?  ami  solemn  remrmbiances  of  many 
pious  men,  illustrates  the  charnc-ier  of  ihe  day  m  winch  tU^y  lived,  and  delines  the  men  more 
clearly  than  very  elaborate  essays." — Baltimore  American. 

"We  regard  the  collection  as  highly  interesting,  and  judiciously  made."  —  Presbyterian. 

JOSEPHUS'S  (FLAVIUS)  WORKS, 

FAMILY    EDITION. 
BY  THE  LATE  WILLIAIW  WHISTON,  A.  IVI. 

FROM  THE  LAST  LONDON  EDITION,  COMPLETE. 
One  volume,  beautifully  illustrated  with  Steel  Plates,  and  the  only  readable  edition 

published  in  this  country. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  every  family  in  our  country  has  a  copy  of  the  Holy  Bible ;  and  as  the  pre- 
sunrjption  is  thai  the  greater  portion  often  consult  its  pages,  -we  take  the  liberty  of  saying  to  all  those 
that  do,  that  the  perusal  of  the  writings  of  Josephus  will  be  found  very  interesting  and  instructive. 

All_  those  who  wish  to  possess  a  beautiful  and  correct  copy  of  this  valuable  work,  would  do  well 
to  purchase  this  edition.  It  is  for  sale  at  all  the  principal  bookstores  in  the  United  Slates,  aiid  by 
U)untry  merchants  generally  in  the  Southern  and  Western  States. 

Also,  the  above  work  in  two  volumes. 

BURDER^S  VILLAGE  SERMONS; 

Oi,  101  Plain  and  Short  Discourses  on  the  Principal  Doctrines  of  the  Gospel. 

INTENDED    FOR   THK   USE  OF   FAMILIES,  SUNDAY-SCHOOLS,  OR  COMPANIES  ASSEM- 
BLED FOR  RELIGIOUS  IN.STRUCTION  IN  COUNTRY  VILLAGES. 

BY   GEORCJE   BURDER. 

To  which  is  added  to  each  Sermon,  a  Short  Prayer,  with  some  General  Prayers  for  Families, 

Schools,  <ic.,  at  the  end  of  the  work. 

COMPLETE     IN     ONE     VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 

These  sermons,  which  are  characterized  by  a  beautiful  simplicity,  the  entire  absence  of  contro- 
versy, and  a  true  evangelical  spint,  have  gone  through  many  and  large  editions,  and  been  translated 
into  several  of  the  contmental  languages.  "  They  have  also  been  the  honoured  means  not  only  of 
converting  many  individuals,  but  also  of  introducing  the  Gospel  mto  di.stricts,  and  even  inlo  parish 
churches,  where  before  it  was  comparatively  unknown." 

"This  work  fully  deserves  the  iinniortality  it  hiis  attained." 

This  is  a  fine  library  edition  of  this  invaluable  work  ;  and  when  we  say  that  it  should  be  found  in 
the  possession  of  every  family,  we  only  reiterate  the  sentiments  and  sincere  wishes  of  all  who  take 
•  deep  interest  in  the  eternal  welfare  of  mankind. 

FAMILY   PRAYERS   AND  HYMNS, 

ADAPTED  TO  FAMILY  WORSHIP, 

TABLES  FOR  THE  REGULAR  ^READING  OF  THE  SCRIPTURES. 

By  Rev.  S.  C.  Winchester,  A.  M., 

Late  Paator  of  the  Sixth  Presbyterian  Church,  Phil.idelphia ;   and  the  Presbyterian  Chorcb  at 

Natchez,  Miss. 
Onevoliime,12mo. 

S 


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ILLUSTRATED  STANDARD  POETS. 

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BYRON'S  WORKS. 

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INCLUDING  ALL  HIS  SUPPRESSED  AND  ATTRIBUTED  POEMS;  WITH  SIX  UEAUTIFUL 

ENGRAVINGS. 

This  edition  has  been  carefully  compared  with  the  recent  London  edition  of  Mr.  Murray,  and 
made  complete  by  the  addition  of  more  than  fifty  pages  of  poems  lieretofcjre  unpublished  iu  Eng- 
land. Among  these  there  are  a  number  that  have  never  appeared  in  any  American  edition ;  and 
the  publistiers  believe  they  are  warranted  in  saying  that  this  is  the  most  complete  edition  of  Lord 
Byron's  Poetical  Works  ever  publislied  in  the  United  States. 


t  l^ortli'ul  Sorks  of  Mrs.  lenmns. 

Complete  in  one  volume,  octavo;  with  seven  beautiful  Engravings, 

This  is  a  new  and  complete  editicm,  with  a  splendid  engraved  likeness  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  on  steel, 
and  contains  all  the  Poems  in  the  last  London  and  American  editions.  With  a  Critical  Preface  bjr 
Mr.  Thatcher,  of  Boston. 

"As  no  work  in  the  English  language  can  be  commended  wath  more  confidence,  it  will  argue  bad 
taste  in  a  female  in  this  country  to  be  without  a  complete  edition  of  the  writings  of  one  who  was 
an  honour  to  her  sex  and  to  humanity,  and  whose  productions,  from  first  to  la.st,  contain  no  syllable 
calculated  to  call  a  blush  to  the  cheek  of  modesty  and  virtue.  There  is,  moreover,  in  Mrs.  Hemans's 
poetry,  a  moral  purity  and  a  religious  feeling  which  commend  it,  in  an  especial  manner,  to  the  dis- 
criminating reader.  No  parent  or  guardian  will  be  under  the  necessityjof  imposing  restrictions 
with  regard  to  ihe  free  perusal  of  every  production  emanating  from  this  gifted  woman.  There 
breathes  throu;,'hout  the  whole  a  niost  eminent  exemption  from  impropriety  of  thought  or  diction; 
and  there  is  at  times  a  pensiveness  of  tone,  a  winning  sadness  in  her  more  serious  compositions, 
which  tells  of  a  soul  which  has  been  lifted  from  the  contemplation  of  terrestrial  things,  to  divine 
communings  with  beings  of  a  purer  v/orld." 


iVilLTON,  YOUNG,  GRAY,  BEATTIE,  AND  CQLLINS'S 
POETICAL  WORKS. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,   OCTAVO. 
WITH   SIX   BEAUTIFUL   ENGRAVINGS. 


COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 

Including  two  hundred  and  fifty  Letters,  and  sundry  Poems  of  Cowper,  never  before  published  in 

this  country;  and  of  Thomson  a  new  and  intere.sting  Memoir,  and  upwards  of  twenty 

new  Poems,  for  the  first  lime  printed  from  his  own  Manuscripts,  taken  from 

a  late  Edition  of  the  Aldiue  Poets,  now  publishing  in  London. 

WITH  SEVEN  BEAUTIFUL  ENGRAVINGS. 
The  distinguished  Professor  SilHniaii.  speaking  of  this  edition,  ol)ser\'es :  "  I  am  as  much  gratified 
by  the  elegance  and  fine  taste  of  your  edition,  as  by  the  noble  tribute  of  genius  and  moral  excel- 
lence which  these  delightful  autliors  have  left  for  all  future  generations  ;  and  Cowfier,  especially, 
is  not  less  conspicuous  as  a  true  Christian,  moralist  and  teacher,  than  »s  a  poet  of  great  power  and 
exquisite  ta.ste." 

9 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  ROGERS,  CAMPBELL,  WONTGOIYIERY, 
LAMB,  AND  KIRKE  WHITE. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 
WITH    SIX    BEAUTIFUL    ENGRAVINGS. 

The  beauty,  correctness,  and  convenience  of  this  favourite  edition  of  these  standard  authors  are 
8o  well  known,  that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  a  word  in  its  favour.  It  is  only  necessary  to  say, 
that  the  publishers  have  now  issued  an  illustrated  edition,  whicii  greatly  enhances  its  former  value. 
The  engravings  are  excellent  and  well  selected.    It  is  the  best  lilirary  edition  extant. 


CRABBE,  HEBER,  AND  POLLOK'S  POETICAL  WOEKS. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 
WITH   SIX  BEAUTIFUL    ENGRAVINGS. 

A  writer  in  the  Boston  Traveller  holds  the  following  language  with  reference  to  these  valuable 
editions : — 

'•  Mr.  Editor:  — I  wish,  without  any  idea  of  puffin;?,  to  say  a  word  or  two  upon  the  'Library  of 
English  Poets'  that  is  now  published  at  Pluladelphia,  by  Lippiacott,  Gramlio  <t  Co.  It  is  certainly, 
taking  into  consideration  the  elegant  manner  in  which  it  is  printed,  and  the  reasonable  price  at 
whjch  it  is  airordcd  to  purchasers,  the  best  edition  of  the  modern  Brili^-h  Poets  that  has  ever  been 
published  in  this  country.  Each  volume  is  an  octavo  of  about  500  pages,  double  columns,  stereo- 
typed, and  accompanied  with  fine  engravings  and  biographical  sketches ;  and  most  of  them  are 
reprinted  from  Galismani's  French  edition.  As  to  its  value,  we  need  only  mention  that  it  contains 
the  entire  works  of  Montgomery,  Gray,  Beattie,  Collins,  Byron,  Cowper,  Thom.son,  Milton,  Young, 
Rogers,  Campbell,  Lamb,  Hemans,  Heber,  Kirke  White,  Crabbe,  the  Miscellaneous  Works  of  Gold- 
smith, and  afher  masters  of  the  lyre.  The  publishers  are  doing  a  great  service  by  their  publication, 
and  their  volumes  are  almost  in  as  great  demand  as  the  fashionable  novels  of  the  day ;  and  they 
deserve  tp  be  so :  for  they  are  certainly  printed  in  a  style  superior  to  that  in  which  we  have  before 
had  the  works  of  the  English  Poets." 

No  Ubrary  can  be  considered  complete  without  a  copy  of  the  above  beautiful  and  cheap  editions 
of  the  English  Poots ;  and  persons  ordering  all  or  any  of  them,  will  please  say  Lippincott,  Grambo 
A  Co.'s  illustrated  editions. 


A    COMPLETE 

lictionnri]  nf  ^^oftiml  dliiiofaticns: 

COMPRISING   THE   MOST  EXCELLENT  AND  APPROPRIATE  PASSAGES  IN 
THE  OLD  BRITISH  POETS;  WITH  CHOICE  AND  COPIOUS  SELEC- 
TIONS  FROM  THE  BEST  MODERN  BRITISH  AND 
AMERICAN  POETS. 
EDITED    BY   SARAH   JOSEPHA   HALE. 
As  nightingales  do  upon  glow-worms  feed, 
So  poets  live  upon  the  living  light 
Of  Nature  and  of  Beauty. 

Bailey's  Festus, 

Beautifully  illustrated  with  Engravings.    In  one  super-royal  octavo  volume,  in  various 

bindings. 

niThe  publishers  extract,  from  the  many  highly  complimentary  notices  of  the  above  valuable  and 
beautiful  work,  the  following: 

"We  have  at  last  a  volume  of  Poetical  Quotations  worthy  of  the  name.  It  contains  nearly  six 
hundred  octavo  jiajes,  carefully  and  tastefully  selected  from  all  tlie  home  and  forei;rn  authors  of 
celei)rity.  It  is  invaluable  to  a  writer,  wliile  to  the  ordinary  reader  it  presents  every  subject  at  a 
glance." —  Godei/'s  Lcidi/^s  Book. 

"  The  plan  or  idea  of  Mrs  Half's  work  is  felicitons.  It  is  one  for  which  her  fine  Inste,  her  order!/ 
Iiabits  of  mind,  and  her  long  occupaiion  with  litcritiiro.  has  given  hor  pcriili:(r  Ia<Mlilics ;  and  tho- 
longhly  lias  she  acoomijlished  her  task  in  the  work  liefore  us."  —  Sartrhn's  Mayazijie. 

"It  is  a  choice  colleciinn  of  poetical  extracts  from  overv  Enslisli  and  American  author  worth 
|ierusiiig,  from  tlie  days  of  Chamber  to  the  present  lime."  —  \\'ashinjton  Union. 

"Ttiere  is  notliing  ue^'ative  about  this  work  ;  it  is  positively  good  "—  Evtning  BulUtin. 

10 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


THE  DIAI^IOND  EDITION  OF  BYRON. 
THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  LORD  BYRON, 

"WriTH    A    SKETCH    OP    KIS    LIFE. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE    NEAT    DUODECIMO    VOLUME,  WITH    STEEL    PLATES. 

The  type  of  this  edition  is  so  perfect,  and  it  is  printed  with  so  much  care,  on  fine  white  paper, 
that  it  can  be  read  with  as  much  ease  as  most  of  the  larger  editions.  T}iis  work  is  to  be  had  io 
plain  and  superb  binding,  making  a  beautiful  volume  for  a  g\f\.. 

"  The  Poetical  Works  of  Lord  Byron,  complete  m  one  volume  :  pnlilished  by  L  ,  G.  .t  Co.,  Phila- 
delphia.  We  hazard  uothmg  m  saying  that,  take  it  altogether,  this  is  the  most  elegant  work  ever 
issued  from  the  American  press. 

'"In  a  single  volume,  not  larger  than  an  ordinary  duodecimo,  the  publishers  have  embraced  the 
Whole  of  Lord  Byron's  Poems,  usually  printed  in  ten  or  twelve  volumes;  and,  what  is  more  remark- 
able, have  done  it  with  a  type  so  clear  and  dislmot.  that,  notwithstanding  its  necessarily  small  size 
It  may  be  read  with  the  utmost  facility,  even  by  failing  eye.s.  The  book  is  stereotyjx'd  ;  and  never 
liave  we  seen  a  finer  specimen  of  that  art.  Everything  about  it  is  perfect  — the  paper,  the  print- 
mg.the  binding,  all  correspond  with  each  other;  and  it  is  embellished  with  two  fine  engravings, 
well  worthy  the  companionship  in  which  they  are  placed. 

"  'This  will  make  a  beautiful  Christmas  present.' 

"  We  extract  the  above  from  Godey's  Lady's  Book.  The  notice  itself,  we  are  given  to  understand. 
IS  written  by  Mrs.  Hale. 

"  We  have  to  add  our  commendation  in  favour  of  this  beautiful  volume,  a  copy  of  which  has 
been  sent  us  by  the  publishers.  The  admirers  of  the  noble  bard  will  feel  obliged  to  the  enleri.rise 
which  has  prompted  the  publishers  to  dare  a  competition  with  the  numerous  editions  of  his  works 
already  in  circulation;  and  we  shall  be  surprised  if  this  convenient  irdvellinK  edition  does  not  in  a 
great  degree  supersede  the  use  of  the  large  octavo  works,  which  have  little'  advantage  in  size  ana 
openness  of  type,  and  are  much  inferior  in  the  qualities  of  portability  and  lightness."  — i;i/eZ/:i;e«C€r. 


THE   DIAIVIOND   EDITION   OF  MOORE. 

(corresponding    WITH    BYEON.) 

THE  POETICAL  WOREs"OF  THOMAS  MOORE, 

COLLECTED  BY  HIMSELF. 

COMPLETE    IN   ONE  VOLUME. 

Tnis  work  is  published  uniform  witli  Byron,  from  the  last  London  edition,  and  is  the  most  com- 
plete printed  in  the  country. 


THE   DIAIVIOND   EDITION   OF   SHAKSPEARE, 

(complete    IN    ONE    VOLUME,) 

INCIiXTDXITG  IL  SKSTCH  OF  HIS  I.IFI;. 

UNIFORM  Wrni  BYRON   AND  MOORE. 

THE    ABOVE    WORKS    CAN    BE    H\D    IN    SEVERAL    VARIETIES    OF    BINDING. 

GOLDSMITH'S  ANIMATED  NATURE. 

IN    TWO    VOLUMES,    OCTAVO. 
BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED  WITH  385  PLATES. 

CONTAINING  A  HISTORY  OF  THE  EARTH,  ANIMALS,  BIRDS,  AND  FISHES;  FORMING 
THE  MOST  COMPLETE  NATURAL  HISTORY  EVER  PUBLISHED. 

This  is  a  work  that  should  he  in  the  library  of  every  family,  having  been  written  by  one  of  the 
most  talented  authors  in  the  English  language. 

"Goldsmith  can  never  be  made  ob.soleie  while  delicate  genius,  exquisite  feeling,  fine  invention, 
the  most  harmonious  metre,  and  the  happiest  dioMon,  are  at  all  valued." 

BIGLAND'S   NATURAL   HISTORY 

Of  Animali,  Birds.  Fishes,  Reptiles,  and  ln.sec:s.     lllustratpd  with  numerous  and  beautiful  Engra» 

ings.     By  JOHN   BiGI.ANI).  author  of  a  "  View  of  the  Worhl,"  "  Letters  on 

Lhiiversitfilisi.iry."  »tG      Coinpleiu  ii>  1  vol  ,  lii.no. 

11 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  POWER  AND  PROGRESS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


THE  UNITED  STATES;  Its  Power  and  Progress. 

BY  GUILLAUIVIE    TELL  POUSSIN, 

LATE  MINISTER  OF  THE  REPUBLIC  OF  FRANCE  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

FIRST  AMERICAN.  FROM  THE  THIRD  PARIS  EDITION. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  BY  BDMOND  L.  DU  BARRY,  M.  D., 

SURGEON  U.  S.   NAVY, 

In  one  large  octavo  volume. 

SCHOOLCRAFT'S  GREAT  NATIONAL  WORK  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRIBES  OF 

THE  UNITED  STATES. 

WITH   BEAUTIFUL   AND   ACCURATE    COLOURED   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


HISTORICAL  AND  STATISTICAL  INFORMATION 

RESPECTINa    THE 

HISTORY,  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS 

OF   THE 

fnbinn  €t\hts  of  tlit  itnitfb  Itatfs. 

COLLECTED  AND  PREPARED  UNDER  THE  DIRECTION  OF  THE  BUREAU  OF  INDIAN 
AFFAIRS,  PER  ACT  OF  MARCH  3,  1&17. 

BT  HUN-IfSr  H.  SCHOOZiCBikFT,  Z.I..D. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  S.  EASTMAN,   Capt.  U.  S.  A. 
PUBLISHED  BY  AUTHORITY  OF  CONGRESS. 

THE  AMERICAN  GAllDENER'S  CALENDAR, 

ADAPTED  TO  THE  CLIMATE  AND  SEASONS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

Containing  a  complete  account  of  all  the  work  necessary  to  be  done  in  the  Kitchen  Garden,  Frmi 
Garden,  Orchard,  Vineyard,  Nursery,  Pleasure-Ground,  Flower  Garden,  Green-house,  Hot-house, 
and  Forcing  Frames,  for  every  month  in  the  year ;  with  ample  Practical  Directions  for  performing 
the  same. 

Also,  g;eneral  as  well  as  minute  instructions  for  laying  nut  or  erecting  each  and  every  of  the  above 
departments,  according  to  mwleni  tiuste  and  the  most  approved  plans;  the  Ornamental  Planting  of 
Pleasure  Grounds,  in  the  ancient  and  niwlern  style ;  the  cultivation  of  Thorn  Quicks,  and  other 
plants  suitable  for  Live  Hedge.s,  with  the  best  method*  of  making  them,  &.c.  To  which  are  annexed 
catalogues  of  Kitchen  Garden  Plants  and  Herb.s;  Aromatic.  Pot,  and  Sweet  Herbs;  Medicinal 
Plants,  and  the  most  important  Grapes,  <kc.,  used  in  rural  economy;  with  the  soil  best  adapted  to 
their  cultivation.    Together  with  a  copious  Index  to  the  body  of  the  work. 

BY   BERNARD   M 'MA HON. 

Tenth  Edition,  greatly  improved.     In  one  vohune,  octavo. 

THE  USEFUL  AND  THE   BEAUTIFUL; 

DH,   DOMESTIC  AND  MORAL   DUTIES   NECESSARY  TO  SOCIAL  HAPPINESS, 

BEAUTIFULLY   ILLUSTRATED. 
IGino.  square  cloth.     VHcc  50  and  75  cents. 


i 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  FARMER'S  AND  PLANTER'S  ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 


€^t  /armtr's  unir  ^^Inntrr's  (giinirlDpirMa  nf  iTvurul  affairs, 

BY  CUTHBERT  W.  JOHNSOiN. 
ADAPTED  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES  BY  GOUVERNEUR  EMERSON. 

Illustrated  by  scven^een  beautiful    Enpravings  of  Cuitle,  Horsos.  Sheep,  the  varieties  of  Wheat, 
Barley,  Oats,  Grasses,  the  Weeds  of  Asricuiture,  etc. ;  besides  numerous  Engrav- 
ings on  wood  of  the  most  important  implements  of  Agriculture,  6ic. 

This  standard  work  contains  the  latest  and  best  informafion  upon  all  subjects  connected  with 
forming,  and  appertaining  to  the  country ;  treating  of  the  great  crops  of  grain,  hay,  cotton,  hemp, 
tobacco,  rice,  sugar,  <fec.  <5cc. ;  of  horses  and  mules ;  of  cattle,  with  minute  particulars  relating  to 
cheese  and  butter-making;  of  fowls,  including  a  description  of  capon-making,  with  drawings  of  the 
instruments  employed ;  of  bees,  and  the  Russian  and  other  systems  of  managing  bees  and  con- 
structing hives.  Long  articles  on  the  uses  and  preparation  of  bones,  lime,  guano,  and  all  sorts  of 
animal,  mineral,  and  vegetable  substances  employed  as  manures.  Descriptions  of  the  most  approved 
ploughs,  harrows,  threshers,  and  every  other  agricultural  machine  and  implement;  of  fruit  and 
shade  trees,  forest  trees,  and  shrubs;  of  weeds,  and  all  kinds  of  flies,  and  destructive  worms  and 
insects,  and  the  best  means  of  getting  rid  of  them ;  together  with  a  thousand  other  matters  relating 
to  rural  life,  about  which  information  is  so  constantly  desired  by  all  residents  of  the  country. 
IN    ONE    LARGE    OCTAVO    VOLUME. 

MASON'S  FARRIER-FARMERS'  EDITION. 

Price,  62  cents. 


THE  PRACTICAL  FARRIER,  FOR  FARMERS: 

COMPRISINQ    A    GENERAL   DESCRIPTION   OF   THE    NOBLE   AND   DSEFUL   ANIMAL, 

THE    HORSE; 

WITH  MODES  OF  MANAGEMENT  IN  ALL  CASES,  AND  TREATMENT  IN  DISEASE. 
TO    WinCH    TS    ADDED, 

A  PRIZE  ESSAY  ON  MULES  |  AND  AN  APPENDIX, 

Ctrntaining  Recipes  for  Diseases  of  Horses,  Oxen,  Cows,  Calves,  Sheep,  Dogs,  Swine,  <tc.  iSuj. 
Formerly  of  Surry  County,  Virginia. 

In  one  volume,  12mo.;    bound   in  cloth,   gilt. 

MASON'S  FARRIER  AND  STUD-BOOK-NEW  EDITION. 
THE  GENTLEMAN'S  NEW  POCKET  FARRIER: 

COMPRISING  A  GENERAL  DESCRIPTION  OK  THE  NOBLE  AND  CSEFUL  ANIMAL, 

THE    HOaSE; 

WITH  MODES  OF  MANAGEMENT  IN  ALL  CASES,  AND  TREATMENT  IN  DISEASE 

BV  BZGHikRD  Itl^SOSr,  SS.  2>., 

Formerly  of  Surry  County,  Virginia. 

/o  which  is  added,  A  PRIZE  ESSAY  ON  MULES;  and  AN  APPENDIX,  containing  Recipes  lot 

Diseases  of  Horses,  Oxen,  Cows,  Calves,  Sheep,  Dogs,  Swine,  <tc.  &.c. ;  with  Annals 

of  the  Turf,  American  Stud-Bonk,  Rules  for  Training,  Racing,  <5ic 

WITH    A    SUPPLEMENT, 

(,omprising  an  Es.say  on  Domestic  Animals,  especinlly  Ihe  Hor^e  ;  with  Remarks  on  Treatment  and 

Breeding;  together  with  Trotting  and  Racing  Tahles.  sliovi  ,ng  the  liest  time  on  record  at  on» 

two,  three  and  four  mile  he&Xs  ;  Poili^'rees  of  Winning  Horses,  since  1839,  and  of  the  most 

celebrated   Stallions  and   Mares;  witli  u-sefwl  Calving  and  Lambing  Tal)les.     By 

J.  S.  SJilNNEfi,  Editor  now  of  llie  Parmer's  Library,  New  York,  ice.  <tc. 

13 


LIPPI^X^OTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

HINDS'S  FARRIERY  AND  STUD-BOOK-NEW  EDITION. 
FARRIERY, 

TAUGHT  ON  A  NEW  AND  EASY  PLAN: 

i>  BEINO 

%  €xn\m  m  \\)t  Bisrnsrs  niih  arritaiits  nf  tljB  Xmst; 

With  Instructions  to  the  Shoeing  Smith,  Farrier,  and  Groom ;  preceded  by  a  Popular  Description  of 
the  Animal  Functions  in  Health,  and  how  these  are  to  be  restored  when  disordered. 

BY  JOHN    HINDS,  VETERINARY  SURGEON. 

With  considerable  Additions  and  Improvements,  particularly  adapted  to  this  countrv, 

BY   THOMAS  M.    SMITH, 

Veterinary  Surgeon,  and  Member  of  the  London  Veterinary  Medical  Society. 

WITH  A  SUPPLEMENT,  BY  J.  8.  SKINNER. 

The  publishers  have  received  numerous  flattering  notices  of  the  great  practical  value  of  these 
works.  The  dL'tinguished  editor  of  the  American  Farmer,  speaking  of  them,  observes: —*' We 
cannot  too  highly  reconmiend  these  books,  and  therefore  advise  every  owner  of  a  horse  to  obtain 
thera." 

"There  are  receipts  in  those  books  that  show  how  Founder  may  be  cured,  and  the  traveller  pur- 
8U,e  his  journey  the  next  day,  by  giving  a  tablespoonful  of  alum.  'I'tiis  vv.-us  sjot  from  Dr  P.  Thorntm. 
of  ^lontpelier,  Rappaliannocit  county,  Virginia,  as  founded  on  his  own  observation  m  several  cases." 

"  The  constant  demand  for  Mason's  and  Hinds's  Farrier  has  induced  the  publishers,  Messrs.  Lip- 
pincott,  Grambo  &  Co.,to  put  forth  new  editions,  with  a  '  Su[iplenienl'  of  UK)  pages,  by  J.  S.  Skinner, 
Esq.  We  should  have  sought  to  render  an  accejitahle  service  to  our  asmciiltural  readers,  by  giviii!» 
a  chapter  from  the  Supplenieiit,  'On  the  Relations  between  Man  ami  the  Doiiii'stic  Animals.  es)ie- 
cialiy  the  Horse,  and  tlie  Obligations  thoy  impose  ;'  or  the  one  on  'The  Form  of  Animals;'  but  that 
either  one  of  them  would  overrun  the  space  here  allotted  to  sucli  siilijecls." 

"  Lists  of  Medicines,  and  other  articles  which  ought  to  be  at  hand  about  every  trainin?anil  livery 
stable,  and  every  Farmer's  and  Breeder's  establisliment,  will  be  found  in  these  valuable  works." 


TO   CARPENTERS  AND  IV1ECKANICS. 

Just  Published. 


A  NEW  AND  IMPROVED  EDITION  OF 

THE  CARPENTER'S  NEW  GUIDE, 

BEING  A  COMPLETE  BOOK  OF  LINES  FOR 

ARPENTRY   ANJy   JOINERY; 

Treatmg  fully  on  Practical  Geometry,  SafTu's  Brick  and  Plaster  Uroms,  Niches  of  every  dt  scrix>tion. 

Sky-lights,  Lines  for  Roofs  and  Domes;  with  a  great  variety  of  Designs  for  Rou&, 

Trussed  Girders,  Floors,  Domes,  Bridges.  &c.,  Angle  Bars  for  Shop 

Fronts,  6lc.,  and  Raking  Mouldings. 

ALSO, 

Additional  Plans  for  various  Stair-Cases,  with  the  Lines  for  producing  the  Face  and  Falling  .Mouldii. 
never  before  published,  and  greatly  superior  to  those  Kiven  in  a  former  edition  of  this  woik. 

BY   WILLIAM  JOHNSON,   ARCHITECT, 

OF    PHIL.VDELPHIA. 

Tht  whole  founded  on  true  Geometrical  Principles;  the  Theory  and  Practice  w(dl  exphiined  and 
fully  exem[>lified,  on  Pic;hty-three  copper  plates,  including  some  Observatuins  and  Calculations  on 
the  Strenglii  of  Timber. 

BY    PETER     NICHOLSON, 

Author  of   "The   Carpenter  and   Joi  ler's   Assistant,"  "The   Studtnt's   Instructor   to  the    Five 

Orders,"  &c. 

Thirteenth  Kdiiion.     One  volume,  4to.,  well  bound. 

u 


LIPriNCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

A  DICTIONARY  OF  SELECT  AND  POPULAR  QUOTATIONS, 

WHICH  ARE  IN  DAILY  USE. 

TAKEN  FROM  THE  LATIN,  FREJ^CH,  GREEK,  SPA>fISH  AND  ITALIAN  LANGUAGES. 

Together  with  a  copious  Collection  of  Law  Maxims  and   Law  Terms,  translated  into 

English,  witli  Illustrations,  Historical  and  Idiomatic. 

NEW  AMERICAN  EDITION,  CORRECTED,  WITH  ADDITIONS. 

One   volume,    12rno. 

This  volume  comprises  a  copious  collection  of  leg^]  and  other  terms  which  are  in  common  use, 
with  English  trHiisIiitions  and  historical  illusirations ;  and  we  should  judge  its  author  hud  surely 
been  to  a  great  "Fe;ist  of  Languages,"  and  stole  all  the  scraps.  A  work  ol"  this  character  should 
have  an  extensive  sale,  as  it  entirely  obviates  a  serious  difficulty  in  which  most  readers  are  mvolved 
by  the  frequent  occurrence  of  Latin,  Greek,  and  French  pas.sages,  which  we  suppose  are  introduced 
by  authors  for  a  mere  show  of  learnmg  — a  difficulty  very  perplexing  to  readers  in  gencnd.  I'his 
"  Dictionary  of  Quotations,"  concerning  which  too  much  cannot  be  said<..ni  its  favour,  effectually 
removes  the  difficulty, and  gives  the  reader  an  advantage  over  the  author;  for  we  believe  a  majority 
are  themselves  ignorant;  of  the  meaning  of  the  terms  they  employ.  Very  few  truly  learned  authors 
will  insult  their  readers  by  mlroduciiig  Latin  or  French  quotations  in  their  writings,  when  "plain 
English"  will  do  as  well ;  but  we  will  not  enlarge  on  this  point. 

If  the  book  is  useful  to  those  unacquainted  with  other  languages,  it  is  no  less  valuable  to  the 
classically  educated  as  a  book  of  reference,  and  answers  all  the  purposes  of  a  Lexicon  — indeed,  on 
many  accounts,  it  is  better.  It  saves  the  trouble  of  tumbling  over  the  larger  volumes,  to  which 
every  one,  and  especially  those  engaged  in  the  legal  profession,  are  verv  often  subjected.  It  should 
have  a  place  in  every  library  in  the  country. 


RUSCHENBERGER'S  NATURAL  HISTORY', 

COMPLETE,     WITH     NEW    GLOSSARY. 


EMBRACING   ZOOLOGY,  BOTANY  AND  GEOLOGY; 

FOR  SCHOOLS,  COLLEGES  AND  FAMILIES. 
BV  W.  S.  "W.  £lTrSC£IE!£7B£:ilG£:R,3M.D. 

IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 

WITH   NEARLY  ONE  THOUSAND   ILLUSTRATIONS,  AND   A    COPIOUS   GLOSS.ARY. 

Vol.  I.  contains  Vertebrate  Animals.     Vol.  II.  contains  Intervertebrate  Animals,  Bolajiy,  and  Greology. 


A  Beautiful  and  Valuable  Presentation  Book. 


THE    POET'S    OFFERING. 

EDITED   BY   MRS.    HALE. 

With  a  Portrait  of  the  Editress,  a  Splendid  Illuminated  Title-Page,  and  Twelve  Beautiful  Engrav- 
ings by  Sartain.    Bound  in  rich  Turkey  Morocco,  and  Extra  Cloth,  Gilt  Edge. 

To  those  who  wish  to  make  a  present  that  will  never  lose  its  value,  this  will  be  found  the  most 
desinible  Gift-Book  ever  published. 

"  We  commend  it  t(;  all  who  desire  to  present  a  friend  with  a  volume  not  only  very  beautiful,  but 
of  solid  intrinsic  valde  "  —  Washmjton  Union. 

"A  perfect  treiisury  of  the  thoughts  and  fancies  of  the  best  English  and  American  Poets.  The 
paper  and  printing  aie  beautiful,  and  the  biiiduig  rich,  elegant,  and  substantial;  the  most  sensible 
and  attractive  of  all  the  elegant  giit-books  we  have  seen."  —  Evtning  BuUeLin. 

•'The  publishers  deserve  the  thanks  of  the  public  for  so  happy  a  thought,  so  well  executed.  The 
engravings  are  by  the  best  artists,  and  the  otlier  portions  of  tlie  work  correspond  in  elegance."  — 
Fnbtic  Ledfjer. 

"  There  is  no  book  of  selections  50  diversified  and  appropriate  within  our  knowledge." — Penn^lv'n. 

"It  IS  One  of  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  elegant  hoo.ks  ever  published  in  this  country."  —  Godey's 
Lady's  Book. 

•'  It  is  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  useful  offering  ever  bestowed  on  th»  public.  No  individual 
at  literary  tafcte  will  veulore  to  be  wilhoul  it  "—  Ffif  Cit'j  [tan 

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THE   YOUNG  DOMINICAN; 
OR,  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  INQUISITION, 

AND  OTHER  SECRET  SOCIETIES  OF  SPAIN. 
BY  M.  V.   DE  FEREAL. 

WITH  HISTORICAL   NOTES,   BY  M.   MANUEL   DE   CUENDIAS. 

TRANSLATKD    FROM    THK    FRENCir. 
ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TWENTY  SPLENDin  ENGRAVINGS  BY  FRENCH  ARTISTS 

One  volume,  octavo. 

SAY'S  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 

A  TREATISE  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY; 
Or,  The  Production,  Distribution  and  Consumption  of  Wealth. 

BY  JEAN   BAPTISTE   SliTST. 

FIFTH   AMERICAN    EDITION,   WITH    ADDITIONAL    NOTES, 
BY  C.   C.    BIDDLE,    Esq. 

In  one  volume,  octavo. 

It  woultl  be  beneficial  to  our  country  if  all  those  who  are  aspiring  to  office,  were  required  by  theu 
constituents  to  he  familiar  with  the  pages  of  Say. 

The  distinguished  biographer  of  the  author,  in  noticing  this  work,  observes :  "  Happily  for  science, 
he  commenced  that  study  which  forms  the  basis  of  his  adniirnble  Treatise  on  Political  Economy  ;  a 
work  which  not  only  improved  under  his  hand  with  every  successive  edjtion,  but  has  been  translated 
into  most  of  the  European  languasres." 

The  Editor  of  the  North  American  Review,  speaking  of  Say,  observes,  that  "he  is  the  moat 
popular,  and  perhaps  the  most  able  writer  on  Political  Economy,  since  the  time  of  Smith." 

LAURENCE  STERNE'S  WORKS, 

WITH  A  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR: 

WRITTEN    BY    HIMSELF. 

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FRO.M  DESIGNS  BY'  DARLEY'. 

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To  commend  or  to  critici.se  Sterne's  Works,  m  this  age  of  the  world,  would  be  all  "  wasteful  and 
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Captive  — even  the  Dead  Ass,  —  this  is  all  we  have  to  say  of  Sterne;  and  iu  the  memory  of  these 
cliaracters.  histories,  and  sketches,  a  thousand  follies  and  worse  than  follies  are  forgotten.  The 
volume  is  a  very  handsome  one. 

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AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  CONQUEST  OF  CALIFORNIA  AND  NEW  MEXICO. 

Uudor  Gen.   Keaniy,  Cols.  Doniphan  and  Fipmont.    Together  witli  Numerous   Anecdotes  of  tlie 

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Game;  Soups,  Broths,  Vegetables,  and  Salads.    Also,  for  making  all  kinds  of  Plain  and 
Fancy  Breads,  Pastes,  Puddings,  Cakes,  Creams,  Ices,  Jellies,  Preserves,  Manna- 
lades,  (kc.  <tc.  <kc.    Together  with  various  Miscellaneous  Recipes, 
and  numerous  Preparations  for  Invalids. 

BY  MRS.   BLISS. 
In   one   volume,    12mo. 


BY   J.   B.  JONES, 

AUTHOR  OF  "WILD  VV'^ESTERN  SCENES,"  "THE  WESTERN  MERCHANT,"  4ec 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TEN   ENGRAVINGS. 

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FIELD  AND  CAMP;  OF  THE  CHARACTER  OF  THE  COUNTRY,  RLA.NNERS 

AND  WAYS  OF  THE  PEOPLE,  <kc. 

BY  RICHARD  M 'SHERRY,  M.  D.,  U.  S.  N., 

Late   acting   edrgeon   of  regiment   of   marines. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

WITH     NUMEROUS    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

MON£Y-BA@S  AND  TITLES ! 

A  HIT  AT  THE  FOLLIES  OF  THE  AGE. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF  JULES  SANDEAU. 

BY   LEONARD    MYERS. 

One  volume,  12mo. 
"'Money-Bans  and  Titles'  is  quite  a  remarkable  work,  amounts  to  a  kindly  exposure  of  the  folly 
of  human  pride,  and  also  presents  at  once  the  evil  and  the  remedy.  If  good-natured  ridicule  of 
the  impostures  practised  by  a  set  of  self-styled  reformers,  who  have  nothing  to  lose,  and  to  whom 
change  must  be  gain  —  if,  in  short,  a  delineation  of  the  mistaken  ideas  which  prevent,  and  the 
means  which  conduce  to  happiness,  be  traits  deserving  of  commendation, —  the  reader  will  find 
much  to  enlist  his  attention  and  win  his  approbation  in  the  pages  of  this  unpretending,  but  truly 
meritorious  publication." 

WHAT  IS  CHURCH  HISTOM? 

A  VINDICATION  OF  THE  IDEA  OF  HISTORICAL  DEVELOPMENTS. 

BY  PHILIP   SCHAF. 
TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN. 

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DODD'S  LECTURES. 


DISCOURSES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

ELUSTRATED  BY  NUMEROUS  HIGHLY  INTERESTING  ANECDOTES. 

BY   WILIilAlVl  DODD,   LL.  D., 

CHAPLAIN    IN    ORDINARY    TO    HIS    MAJESTY    GEORGE    THE    THIRD. 

FIRST  AMERICAN  EDITION,  WITH  ENGRAVINGS. 

One  volume,  ISmo. 

THE  IRIS: 

AN  ORIGINAL  SOUVENIR. 
With  Contributions  from  the  First  Writers  in  the  Country. 

EDITED   BY  PROF.   JOHN   S.   HART. 

With  Splendid  Illuminations  and  Steel  Engn-avini^.    Bound  in  Turkey  Morocco  and  rich  Papier 

Mache  Binding. 

IN  ONE  VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 
Its  contents  are  entirely  origrinal.  Among  the  contributors  are  names  well  known  in  the  republic 
of  letters ;  such  as  Jlr.  Boker,  Mr.  Stoddard,  Prof.  Moffat,  Edith  May,  Mrs.  Sigourney,  Caroline  May, 
Mrs.  Kinnoy,  Mrs.  Butler,  Mrs.  Pease,  Mrs.  Swift,  Mr.  Van  Bibber,  Rev.  Chuiles  T.  Brooks,  Mrs. 
Dorr,  Era-stus  W.  Ellsworth,  Miss  E.  W.  Barnes,  Mrs.  Williams,  Mary  Younj;,  Dr.  Gardetle,  Alice 
Carey,  Phebe  Carey,  Augusta  Browne,  Hamilton  Browne,  Caroline  Eustis,  Margaret  Junkin,  Maria 
J.  B.  Browne,  Miss  Starr.  Mrs.  Brotherson,  Kate  Campbell,  <tc. 

(§>m3  frnm  tlie  $muh  Mine; 

OR,  HOLY  THOUGHTS  UPON  SACRED  SUBJECTS. 

BY  CLERG-YMEN  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH. 

EDITED  BY  THOMAS  WYATT,  A.M. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

WITH   SEVEN   BEAUTIFUL  STEEL  ENGRAVINGS. 

The  contents  of  this  work  are  chiefly  by  clergymen  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  Among  tiie  con- 
tributors will  be  found  the  names  of  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Potter,  Bishop  Hopkins,  Bishop  Smith, 
Bishop  Johns,  and  Bishop  Doane ;  and  the  Rev.  Drs.  H.  V.  D.  Johns,  Coleman,  and  Butler ;  Rev.  G. 
T.  Bedell,  .M'Cabe,  Ogilsby,  <kc.  The  illustrations  are  rich  and  exquisitely  wrought  engravings  upon 
t.ie  following  subjects: — "Samuel  before  Eli,"  "Peter  and  John  healing  the  Lame  Man,"  "The 
Resurrection  of  Christ,"  "Joseph  sold  by  his  Brethren,"  "The  Tables  of  the  Law."  "Christ's 
Agony  in  the  Garden,"  and  "The  Flight  mto  Egypt."  These  subjects,  with  many  others  in  prose 
and  verse,  are  ably  treated  throughout  the  work. 

HAW-HO-NOO: 

OR,  THE  RECORDS  OF  A  TOURIST. 

BY  CHARLES  LANMAW, 

Author  of  "  A  Summer  in  the  Wilderness,"  &c.     In  one  volume,  12mo. 

"  In  the  present  book,  'Hcno-ho-noo,'  (an  Indian  name,  by  the  way,  for  America,)  the  author  has 
Ifathered  up  some  of  the  relics  of  his  former  tours,  and  added  to  them  other  interesting  niutler.  It 
contains  a  numl>er  of  carefully  written  and  instructive  articles  upon  the  various  kinds  offish  in  our 
country,  whose  capture  affoni.s  sport  for  anglers  ;  reminiscences  of  unique  incidents,  manners,  and 
en.stonis  in  different  parts  of  llie  country;  and  other  articles,  narrative,  descriptive,  and  sentimental. 
Ill  a  supplement  are  gathered  many  curious  Indian  legends.  They  are  related  wiili  great  simplicity 
and  clearness,  jind  will  be  of  scr\'ice  hcreafler  to  the  poem-makers  of  .Vini^rica.  Many  of  tlMJin  are 
qtiitc  bciiiitirul  " — Nnlinnul  iHldtmmccr. 

18 


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LONZ  POWERS;  Or,  The  Regulators. 
A  ROMANCE  OF  KENTUCKY. 

FOUNDED    ON    FACTS. 

BY  JAIVIES  WEIR,   ESQ. 

LV  TWO  VOLUMES. 
The  scenes,  characters,  and  incidents  in  these  volumes  have  been  copied  from  nature,  and  from 
real  life.  They  are  represented  as  taking  place  at  that  period  in  the  history  of  Kentncky,  when 
the  Indian,  driven,  after  many  a  hard-fought  field,  from  his  favourite  hunting-ground,  was  succeeded 
by  a  rude  and  unlettered  population,  interspersed  with  organized  bands  of  desperadr»es,  scarcely 
less  savage  than  the  red  men  they  had  displaced.  The  author  possesses  a  vigorous  and  graphic 
pen,  and  has  produced  a  very  interesting  romance,  which  gives  us  a  stiiking  portrait  of  t  lie  times 
he  describes. 

THE  WESTERN  MERCHANT. 

A  NARRATIVE, 

Containing  useful  Instruction  for  the  Western  Man  of  Business,  who  makes  his  Purchases  in  th« 
East.    Also,  Information  for  the  Eastern  Man,  whose  Customers  are  in  the  West. 
Likewise,  Hints  for  those  who  design  emigrating  to  the  West.    De- 
duced from  actual  experience. 

BY  LUKE  SHORTFIELD,  A  WESTERN  MERCHANT. 

One   volume,    12mo. 

This  is  a  new  work,  and  will  be  found  very  interesting  to  the  Country  Merchant,  <kc.  <fec. 

A  sprightly,  pleasant  book,  with  a  vast  amount  of  information  in  a  very  agreeable  shape.  B"jsl- 
osss,  Love,  and  Keligion  are  all  discussed,  and  many  proper  sentiments  expressed  in  regard  to  each. 
The  "moral"  of  the  work  is  summed  up  in  the  following  concluding  sentences;  "Adhere  stead- 
fastly to  your  business ;  adhere  steadfastly  to  your  first  love ;  adhere  steadfastly  to  the  church. " 

A  MANUAL  OF  POLITENESS, 

COMPRISING   THE 

PRINCIPLES  OF  ETIQUETTE  AND  RULES  OF  BEHAVIOUR 

IN  GENTEEL  SOCIETY,  FOR  PERSONS  OP  BOTH  SEXES. 

18mo.,  with  Plates. 


Book  of  Politeness. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  AND  LADY'S 

BOOK  OF  POLITENESS  AND  PROPRIETY  OF  DEPORTMENT 

DEDICATED  TO  THE  YOUTH  OF  BOTH  SEXES. 

BY  3VIADAIVIE   CELNART. 

Translated  from  the  Sixth  Paris  Edition,  Enlarged  and  Improved. 

Fiftli    American    Edition* 

One  volume,  18mo. 

THE  ANTEDILUVIANS;  Or,  The  World  Destroyed. 

A  NARRATIVE  POEM,  IN  TEN  BOOKS. 

BY  JAMES  M'HENRY,  M.D. 

One  volume,  18mo 

19 


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Bennett's  (Kev,  John)  Letters  to  a  Young  Lady, 

ON  A  VARIETY  OF  SLM5JECT3   CALCULATED  TO  IMPROVE  THE  HEART, 
TO  FORM  THE  MANNERS,  AND  ENLIGHTEN  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

"That  our  daughters  may  be  as  poLshed  corners  of  the  temple." 
The  publishers  sincerely  hope  (for  the  happiness  of  mankind)  that  a  copy  of  this  valuable  little 
work  will  be  found  the  coui[inniun  of  every  young  lady,  as  uiuch  of  the  happuiHSS  of  every  foauly 
depends  on  the  proper  cultivation  of  the  female  mind. 


THE  DAUGHTER'S  OWN   BOOK: 

OR,  PRACIICAIj  IIIXiS  FROM  A  FATHER  TO  HIS  DAUGHTER. 

One  volume,  18mo. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  practical  and  truly  valuable  treatises  on  the  culture  and  discipline  of  the 
female  mind,  which  has  hitherto  Ijecn  published  in  this  country  ;  and  the  pulihshers  are  veo'  confi- 
dent, from  the  grreat  demand  fur  this  invaluable  htlle  work,  that  ere  long  it  will  be  found  in  the 
library  of  every  young  lady. 

'     THE  AMERICAN  CHESTEimELD: 

Or,  "Youth's  Guide  to  the  Way  to  V/ealth,  Honour,  and  DistinctioD/'  k.    18mo. 

CONTAINING  ALSO  A  COMPLETE  TREATISE  ON  THE  ART  OF  CARVING. 

"We  most  cordially  recommend  the  American  Chesterfield  to  general  attention;  but  to  youHg 
persons  particularly,  as  one  of  the  best  works  of  the  kind  that  has  ever  been  published  in  thw 
country.  It  cannot  be  too  highly  appreciated,  nor  its  perusal  be  unproductive  of  satisfaction  and 
usefulness." 

SENECA'S   MORALS. 

BY  WAY  OF  ABSTRACT  TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED,  A  DISCOURSE  UNDER 
THE  TITLE  OF  AN  AFTER-THOUGHT. 

BYSIR    ROGER     L'ESTRANGE,     KNT. 

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NEW  SONG-BOOK. 

drigg'jj  loiitljrrn  nii^  Wudm  longstrr; 

BEING  A  CHOICE  COLLECTION  OF  THE  MOST  FASHIONABLE  SONGS,  MANY  OF  \VTI1CH 

ARE  ORIGIN.AL. 

In  one  volume,  18 mo. 

Great  care  was  taken,  in  the  selection,  to  admit  no  song  that  contained,  in  the  slightes|^e^ree, 
any  indelicate  or  improi)er  allusions;  and  with  stoat  propriety  it  muyclaiin  the  title  of  "The  Pai- 
lour  Song-Book,  or  Songster."    The  immortal  Sliakspeare  observes  — 

"The  man  that  hath  not  music  in  himself. 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils." 

ROBOTHAM'S  POCKET  FRENCH  DICTIONARY. 

CAREFULLY   REVISED, 
AND  THE  PRONUNCIATION  OF  ALL  THE  DIFFirPLT  WORDS  ADDED 

20 


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THE  LIFE  AND  OPINIONS  OF  TRISTRAM  SHANDY,  6ENTLEIV1AN. 

COMPRISING   THE    HUMOROUS    ADVENTURES   OF 

UNCLE  TOBY  AND  CORPORAL   TRIM. 

BV  If.  STEHITE. 
Beautifully  Illustrated  by  Darlcy*     Stitcliecia 


A  SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEY. 

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•'  ^ndsni-.^  L,..    .  ,  -two  VOLUMES  in  one. 

n!)  T3ihi59  and  .10  gVrl  ,18^;         

A  TREATISE  ON  THE  DISEASES  AND  PHYSICAL  EDUCATION  OF  CHILDREN. 

By  JOHN    EBERLE,  M.  D.,  (tc.     Fourth  Edition.     Witli  Notes  and  v6ry  large  Adililious. 

:rXo':;   <       By  Thomas  D.  Mitchell,  A.  M.,  M.  D.,  &c.      1  vol.  8vo. 


eiilLm   ■    EBERLE'S  NOTES  FOR  STUDENTS -NEW  EDITION. 

•^*  These  works  are  used  :is  tt-xt-books  in  most  of  the  Medical  Schools  in  tiie  Uiuted  Slates. 

^''^•!:;;:A  PRACTICAL  TREATISE  ON  POISONS: 

Tbreir'Symptoms,  Antidotes,  and  Treatment.   By  0.  H.  Costill,  M.  D.   18mo, 
IDENTITIES  OF  LIGHT  AND  HEAT.  OF  CALORIC  AND  ELECTRICITY. 

BV  C.  CAMl'BELL  COOPER. 

ITNITED  STATES'  PHARMACOPEIA, 

Sdition  of  18.^1      PuUliishiid  l)y  iiuthority  of  tlie  National  Mediwil  Coiiveutiou      1  vol   (*vt» 

27 


LirPIjSCOTT'S 

CABINET  HISTORIES  OE  THE  STATES. 


The  subscriber^  liave"Bb6Tl'fbrsbmefiTne'''^i^pkTTOg  to  publish 
a  series  of  Cabinet  Histories  of  all  the  States  of  the  UDion, 
to  embrace  a  volume  for  each  State;  and  they  have  so  far  com- 
pleted all  their  arrangements  as  to  be  able  to  issue  the  whole  scries 
in  the  shortest  possible  time  consistent  with  its  careful  literary 
production.     Several  volumes  are  now  ready  for  sale. 

The  importance  of  a  series  of  State  Histories,  like  those  now  in 
preparation,  can  scarcely  be  estimated.  Being  condensed  as  care- 
fully as  accuracy  and  interest  of  narrative  will  permit,  the  size 
and  price  of  the  volumes  will  bring  them  within  the  reach  of 
every  family  in  the  country,  thus  making  them  home-reading 
books  for  old  and  young.  Each  individual  will,  in  consequence,' 
become  familiar,  not  only  with  the  history  of  his  own  State,  but 
with  that  of  the  other  States  :  thus,  mutual  interests  will  be 
reawakened,  and  old  bonds  cemented  in  a  firmer  reunion. 

The  talented  authors  who  have  engaged  to  write  these  histories 
are  no  strangers  in  the  literary  world.  What  they  undertake, 
the  public  may  rest  assured  will  be  performed  thoroughly,  and 
that  no  sectarian,  sectional,  or  party  feeling  will_  bias  their  judg- 
ments, or  lead  them  to  violate  the  integrity  of  history. 

In  this  series  of  histories  the  authors,  while  presenting  a  concise 
but  accurate  narrative  of  the  domestic  policy  of  each  State,  will 
give  greater  prominence  to  the  personal  history  of  the  people. 
The  dangers  which  continually  hovered  around  the  early  colonists; 
the  stirring  romance  of  a  life  passed  fearlessly  amid  peril ;  the 
incidents  of  border  warfare;  the  adventures  of  hardy  pioneers; 
the  keen  watchfulness,  the  subtle  surprise,  the  ruthless  attack,  and 
prompt  retaliation— all  these,  having  had  an  important  influence 
upon  the  formation  of  the  American  character,  are  to  be  faithfully 
recorded;  while  the  progressive  developments  of  the  citizens  of 
each  individual  State,  from  the  rough  forest  life  of  the  earlier  day 
to  the  polished  condition  of  the  present,  will  exhibit  a  picture  of 
national  expansion  as  instructing  as  it  is  interesting. 

The  public  may  depend  upon  one  thing,  that  these  books  are 
not  to  be  mere  hui-ried,  superficial,  catch-penny  aflairsj  but  care- 
fully prepared,  accurate,  and  reliable  histories,  in  which  matters 
of  interest  and  importance,  scattered  through  many  bulky  volumes, 
will  be  brought,  as  far  as  regards  each  State,  into  one,  and  the 
entire  history  of  each  individual  State,  from  its  origin  to  the  pre- 
sent time,  given  in  a  clear  and  continuous  narrative. 

,YT]0iHTGa!3  Qm  C!       LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  Co. 

No.  14  North  Fourdi  Su-eet^  Philadelphia. 


11 


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Date  Due 

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